


The Year of Pranks

by sunflowerstate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerstate/pseuds/sunflowerstate
Summary: Ophelia, "Leah",  Dolohov was never a trouble-maker, but after being docked points from Slytherin for retaliating at Fred Weasley, she pranks the Weasley twins back, causing a prank-war that lasts the rest of the year. Will Leah be able to admit that this is the most fun that she's had in years? Or will she go back to only balancing her NEWT-level classes and trying to live up to the expectations that he family and friends have for her?
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

"Leah, pay attention!" Daphne hisses. 

I look up at my cauldron, which is now hissing grey smoke. Swearing, I hastily add the next ingredient, Powdered Bicorn Horn, stirring it in the required amount of times. 

"Thanks," I whisper. 

"You're not usually like this," Daphne complains. "You're not going to fix anybody with that kind of Pepperup Potion." 

I roll my eyes at her, trying to ignore the snickers coming from the Weasley twins' table behind us. To tell the truth, I had been distracted. In the class before, Transfiguration, Fred had transfigured every quill I had tried to use into a white mouse. In retaliation, I had vanished all of the bullfrogs in front of him that we were supposed to be turning into vases. 

Unfortunately for me, it had been in sight of Professor McGonagall, who had taken ten points from Slytherin for my "display of immaturity". 

"I'm going to get him back," I mutter. Although my potion is still kind of murky -- not the clear silver of Daphne's -- it's not as bad as it could be, given the circumstances. 

"I don't know why you bother," Daphne whispers, still focused on her potion. "Their family is a bunch of blood-traitors, they don't matter." 

"It's the principal of it all," I answer, and then swear again under my breath when I see Professor Snape making his way around the room. 

"Excellent work, Ms. Greengrass," Professor Snape says, looking at Daphne's potion. "Five points to Slytherin." 

I keep my eyes down when he looks at my potion. "I expected better from you, Ms. Dolohov." 

Fuming, I watch as he moves to the back, where the Weasley twins appear to be concentrating on their own work. I swear, I can see them trying to hide their laughter when they think I'm not looking.

Snape doesn't say anything when he looks at their work, which probably means he can't find anything to criticize. 

After class, I complain, "Honestly, I don't even know how they got into NEWT-level potions. It's not like we ever see them studying." 

"Oh, come off it," Daphne replies. "Come on, let's go to the common room." 

"Oi, Dolohov!" A voice calls from the other end of the corridor. I turn around without thinking. Fred is grinning at me from outside the classroom door. "You're going to have to do better than that!" 

"I'll get you back for that, Fred Weasley!" I shout back. 

He laughs. "I'd like to see you try." 

"You're not as clever as you think," I saw. "Anyone can pull pranks. We'll see who's laughing when I make you lose points for Gryffindor." 

Daphne pulls me away then. "Honestly," she says, her hand still clamped around my arm as we walk down the hallway towards the Slytherin common room, "I don't know what's gotten into you." 

"They're just rude," I complain, a bit embarrassed. I don't know what's gotten into me either. I've never been confrontational in my life. 

Still, I can't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. It's true, I had lost points for our house before -- for stupid reasons, like being out too late in the hallways, or making foolish mistakes in class -- but it had never been caused by a reaction to someone else. I find myself loathing the Weasley twins -- Fred, in particular -- for making me lose my cool in class like that. 

-:-

The next day at breakfast, a plan comes to me as I'm buttering a piece of toast. I do have a way to get back at them, if I can work it out just right.

Thankfully, Daphne doesn't notice me whispering to a few Slytherin third-years that I know paid a visit to Zonko's at the last Hogsmeade visit, because she's too busy listening to something that Pansy Parkinson is saying across the table. She also doesn't notice when I stand up and make my way over to the Gryffindor table until I'm almost halfway there. 

Ignoring her look of disgust, I approach Fred and George, who are talking to their equally-as-obnoxious friend Lee Jordan. 

"This is a surprise," George says. "Come to tell us off again?" 

I smile. "I just wanted to apologize for losing my cool yesterday, I'm not usually like that." 

"Oh, I bet you are," Fred grins. "You just needed a little help bringing that side out in class." 

"I wanted to give you this as an apology," I continue, leaning over Fred's shoulder to place the chocolates that I had received from the third-years on the table. "I really shouldn't try to one-up you on the pranks. That was silly of me." 

"Nice try," George answers, examining the chocolates, "but we know they're from Zonko's -- they'll make our hair fall off." 

"Honestly," Fred says, "you'll have to try harder than that. How stupid do you think we are?" He looks like he's trying not to laugh in my face. 

I shrug. "You can't blame me for trying." 

Laughing now, they stand up to go to their next class -- Charms, which I unfortunately have with them as well. 

"What was that all about?" Pansy Parkinson demands when I return to the Slytherin table to meet Daphne. 

"I dunno," I reply. "Just an attempt at something." 

Daphne doesn't ask me what I was up to on the way to class, but I can tell that she wants to. I can tell that she's still annoyed with me from how I had been acting yesterday. I figure that she'll get over it. 

Later, in Charms, I'm pleased to see that the Filibuster Fireworks that I had planted in Fred's bag go off in the back of the classroom, causing Professor Flitwick to take ten points from Gryffindor. 

I don't say anything, but I can see the twins looking at me as I'm laughing. 

"So that's what you were doing," Daphne accuses. "Stooping to their level." 

"Now we're even," I insist, scribbling a few notes down as I'm talking. "Come on, you have to admit that it was funny." 

"Don't drag me into this," she warns. "The last thing I need from this year is to end up getting harassed by a bunch of blood-traitors. Besides, my parents would kill me." 

"I won't," I promise, feeling a little guilty. If anyone should understand trying to please your parents, it would be me. "Sorry, Daph." 

She looks a bit mollified. "It's fine," she answers. "They probably deserved it anyway." 

After class, Daphne has to leave because she has Ancient Runes right after. I take my time cleaning up my supplies, waiting for the other students to leave the room. 

Fred is waiting for me when I step out of the room. "I suppose you think we're even now?" 

"Why should I?" I ask innocently. 

"That was clever," he admits. "Sneaking the fireworks into my bag like that." 

"It serves you right," I answer, unable to contain myself. "Thinking that I'm not smart enough to get you back. You should have seen the looks on your faces." 

Standing this close to me, I realize how tall he really is. "You do know this means war, right Dolohov?" 

"I suppose I do," I say, and then turn to leave him. 

What have I gotten myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

"Wands away," Professor Umbridge says, in a simpering tone. She's a toad-like woman, who likes the color pink entirely too much for my liking.

The class grumbles, but there's a rustling sound as everyone begins to take out their Ministry-approved textbooks. Daphne, ever the rule-follower, dutifully takes out her textbook and begins to copy the notes outlined on the board. 

I take out my own book and start idly turning the pages. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been one of my favorite classes before this, but I had a feeling that it was going to be this boring everyday. 

"Professor," Lee Jordan, one of Fred and George's annoying friends, says, "are we ever going to use these spells in class?" 

"Raise your hand, Mr. Jordan." Umbridge gives him a smile, which only makes her look more toad-like. 

He raises his hand, and asks the question again. 

"If you know the theory, there should be no reason at all why you need to practice this in class," she replies. 

Someone behind me raises their own hand, and I have a feeling that I know who it is. 

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" There's a flicker of annoyance on Umbridge's face now. 

"I don't suppose there's any point of being in this class at all," Fred says, rather bluntly. "If we aren't going to practice. We could read the book anytime." 

Next to me, I see Daphne scowl as she's writing her notes. 

They argue a bit, until our new professor threatens detention. I'm surprised to see that Fred and George stop talking immediately, until I remember hearing about Harry Potter getting detention for the same reason. I see Angelina Johnson, the Quidditch Captain, glaring at them from across the room. 

I cough, hiding a laugh. 

"Are you alright, Miss Dolohov?" Umbridge fixes her gaze on me. Damn, I guess I wasn't that sneaky. 

"Er, yes Professor," I say. 

We continue working, and it feels like the class takes hours. To my left, I see that a Gryffindor boy has started dozing off. 

I look down at the notes I've already taken, and gasp. Everything I had jotted down had been replaced with someone else's handwriting:

Defensive Theory for Morons 

Chapter 1: Protecting yourself from You-No-POO

There's a laugh from behind me, and I see Angelina turn and hiss a warning to whoever it is. 

I glance towards the laughter, and see Fred and George looking a bit too interested in their work. Fred barely hides his grin. 

"You will turn in your notes before leaving," Umbridge says. "Class is dismissed." 

"I'll kill you," I whisper to Fred, who is getting ready to turn in his own notes. I notice that the handwriting matches up to the one on my own paper. 

"He could take that as a threat," George snickers. "We could be talking to a future You-Know-Who follower." 

I scowl. "You don't mess with my grades." 

"If anything, I think I improved them," Fred grins, and then flashes a white quill at me before pocketing it. "It's something that we're working on. I would offer to sell one to you, but I'm afraid you might use it to cheat on your exams." He gives me a mock-concerned look. 

I leave class with zero marks for the day. 

"I don't know why you didn't just tell Professor Umbridge," Daphne complains, after I tell her about the whole ordeal." 

"I prefer to get even," I reply. 

"Your grades are important," she sniffs. "What are you going to do for your NEWTs?" 

"I still know the material," I reply. "Besides, it's personal now. They said I could be a 'You-Know-Who follower' one day." 

Her face softens. "You're not your father, Leah." 

Daphne's the only one I've ever told about my family. Or, well, as much of it as I have left. "I know," I say. "Thanks, Daph." 

"Anyway," she says, "what did you think of the new professor? I quite liked her. My mother says that she knows her from the Ministry." 

I sigh. 

-:-

The next time we have potions, I vanish the contents of Fred's cauldron before he can bottle it up to give to Professor Snape. 

"We're even now," I smirk, and then walk away before I see his reaction. I had watched him work hard on it -- I think Fred actually enjoys potions, even though I know he wouldn't admit it. 

"Not even started, Weasley?" Professor Snape says, with a sneer. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention." 

"Bold of you to think I care about grades," Fred says, before I can escape him. 

I shrug. "At least I don't have detention." 

"We can arrange that," he says. "Easy." 

"I'll just get even again," I reply. "Maybe you should be afraid, Weasley, since you think I'm such an expert at the Dark Arts." What was I even saying? 

"I never said you were good at anything." There's a grin forming on his face. Does anything ever phase him? 

"You'd better stop," Daphne warns me, "before you lose more points." She had just gotten ten points to Slytherin for an almost-perfect potion. 

"She's right," Fred agrees, "let Gryffindor beat you fairly." I hear George laughing nearby, and Fred goes to join him. 

"We'll see about that," I mutter to myself, vanishing my own potion. 

-:-

The next week, there's a sign posted in the Slytherin Common Room informing everyone about the new Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 

"It's about time that they let someone decent work here," I hear Pansy Parkinson say. "Everyone knows that Dumbledore is going mad." 

"Maybe he'll get sacked." A girl with long black hair says. I recognize her as one of Pansy's followers. 

"What do you think this means?" I whisper to Daphne. 

She shrugs. "As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't affect any of us. Did you know she was a Slytherin at Hogwarts?" 

"Did your mum tell you that?" I ask, absentmindedly. There's a bit on the page about inspecting other professors, and my mind goes immediately to our Care of Magical Creatures professor, Hagrid, who is currently not at school. 

"She did," Daphne says. "She also said that you'd better be careful this year. I have a feeling that things are going to get stricter with the Ministry here. Maybe we'll be able to get a job recommendation from her." Daphne had always wanted to work at the Ministry like her parents. 

"I'm still not sure what I want to do after school," I reply. With my family history, I had never been quite keen on having a Ministry job, or maybe I had figured I'd never be hired there anyway. 

"You'll figure it out," she says. "We still have all year." 

If I'm being honest, the thought of Umbridge becoming High Inquisitor doesn't bother me much. I've spent so much time at Hogwarts just trying to stay under the radar, that I'm sure that it won't affect me either. 

Still, I can't ignore the feeling that I have in the pit of my stomach. My aunt, the only relative I have left that isn't dead or in prison, has always been untrustworthy of the Ministry. It wasn't until I had become friends with Daphne and met her parents -- who were nice enough -- that I had even decided that some people in the Ministry might even be decent. 

The day passes with little happening, and I begin to wonder if I had succeeded in getting Fred and George to lay off of me. Of course, that thought diminishes when I realize they aren't in class at all. 

When I point this out to Daphne, she scoffs. "Why are you worrying about them? They're probably skiving off class." 

"You're right," I lie. "I'm not worried." But I was being stupid. Fred and George skipped class sometimes, it probably had nothing to do with me. 

I wonder where they are.


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks pass by. As it turns out, I was not forgotten by the Weasley twins. A few days after getting Fred landed in detention, a few extra ingredients get added to my potion in class, causing it to bubble over and start melting my cauldron. 

An annoyed Snape takes away five points from Slytherin, earning me a few nasty looks from my classmates, especially since he hardly ever takes away points from our house. 

On another day, I have an owl sent to the Weasley twins in the Great Hall with a large order of Dungbombs, which is confiscated immediately by Professor Flitwick, who docks points from Gryffindor. 

My hair is turned a deep shade of green in Transfiguration the next day "accidentally" by Fred, and I'm scolded by Professor McGonagall when I retaliate, turning his textbook into a flock of small birds. 

"Ms. Dolohov," McGonagall says sternly, peering at me over her spectacles. "I expected better from you. You can stay after class to retrieve the birds. And Mr. Weasley, I'm sure that it wasn't an accident." 

She returns my hair to it's natural brown with a flick of her wand. George protests, saying that it was an improvement to my appearance. 

We go back and forth like that for a while. Daphne stops speaking to me about it at all, declaring that I'm a hopeless case and that she wants nothing to do with me when I'm trying to get revenge on the Weasley twins for pranking me. 

On the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, she's hardly talking to me because she's annoyed again. 

"Come on Daph," I say. "I'm sure Filch already knows that they're up to something. I just wanted to tip him off to make it more difficult for them." 

"Do you know how many points you've already lost for Slytherin this month?" She says. 

"Only twenty." 

"This week." Daphne rolls her eyes. "Honestly, it's like you don't care if we get the House Cup or not. This is our last year." 

I consider this, and realize that I don't care very much at all. 

-:-

On the first Hogsmeade visit of the weekend, I'm eager to get out of the building. Daphne, in a good mood, even promises that she'll stop talking about all of the homework that we should be doing instead, declaring that we need a break. 

We're walking with a group of Slytherin girls, Pansy Parkinson included. I've never liked Pansy much -- she's always been too eager to prove herself, plus she's two years younger than us, but she's Daphne's friend. 

I ignore their talking, choosing instead to look at my surroundings. It's fall, my favorite season, and the leaves on the trees are vibrant oranges and yellows. I hope Daphne will walk to the Shrieking Shack with me -- I want to stay outside forever. 

"I imagine you won't have any trouble with your NEWTs, Leah," Pansy says. "Seeing as how your father was a prodigy." 

I look at her, confused. "Who told you that?" 

"Draco said it the other day," she says, offhandedly. "He said that his father told him." 

"I wouldn't know," I answered. "I hardly know him." He had been in Azkaban almost my entire life. 

"Not with how you've been doing lately." Another fifth-year girl rolls her eyes. "I saw you messing with the Weasley twins the other day." 

Pansy's face scrunches up at the very idea. "Why would you do that? They're almost as bad as Weasel-King. I'm guessing she's talking about Fred and George's younger brother, whose name I can't remember. 

"They started it," I mutter. 

"I don't know why you even bother," Olivia, a blonde-haired girl says. She's in our year, and always seems to be scowling. "Honestly, if you lose more points to Slytherin because of them I'm going to think you've gone mad." 

I hadn't realized anyone else had noticed, but I guess that couldn't be helped. The girls in our house always seemed to know everyone's business. 

"I'm sure your father would be proud," Pansy snorts. 

"Maybe you should ask Malfoy," I answer. "Seeing as he knows everything about my family. Did you ever wonder why his father was so close with mine, or is your head too far up his--" 

"Leah!" Daphne interrupts, looking aghast. 

The other girls are looking at me in shock. Pansy is speechless, and there are spots of red forming on her face, clearly rage-induced. 

Thankfully, we're at Hogsmeade. "I'm going to go for a walk," I say to Daphne. "Have fun with your friends." 

I walk ahead of them, determined not to look back. So what if they think I've lost my mind? When I had first arrived at Hogwarts, my last name was something that I was ashamed of. I saw the way that everyone, including the teachers, looked at me. Like I was about to start cursing everyone in sight. 

That was all because of my father, of course. Antonin Dolohov. One of You-Know-Who's followers who had ended up killing and torturing so many people that the Ministry had lost track. 

For a second, I feel bad that I've upset Daphne. After all, she was the only friend I had. We had become friends when we were in our first year, after we had been partnered in Charms and realized that we had a lot in common. 

I'm too busy thinking that I don't notice that there are a good number of Hogwarts students walking in the same direction as me, until later on. To my surprise, I catch a glimpse of Fred and George, entering a dingy-looking pub called the Hog's Head. I duck out of sight before they can see me -- I don't feel like having my eyebrows fall off or something at the moment. 

I make my way to the Shrieking Shack, and lean against the railing that blocks us from actually being stupid enough to go inside. A couple of third-years are giggling nearby, claiming that they've heard something. 

I ignore them, focusing on my surroundings. I'm still fuming at what Pansy had said, even though there was probably some truth to it. I had no doubt that my father wouldn't be proud of me. Any memory I had of him was of him doing something awful, or acting like I didn't exist. 

If anything, I should have been impressed that anyone had had the audacity to bring it up, ever since I had hexed Montague a few years ago for teasing me about it, earning my first and only detention at Hogwarts. 

I stay there for a while, enjoying my time alone. I don't know how long I stay there, but once I leave I feel calm again. I decide to go back to find Daphne and apologize, even though I'd much rather hit Pansy with a hex. 

"Oi!" A voice calls to me, as I'm passing Zonko's joke shop. 

I turn, and Fred and George are there, grinning. I turn back around. 

"Don't be like that, Ophelia," I hear their footsteps speed up, until they're walking beside me. "Aren't you going to buy something to use on us this week?" To be honest, I'm not sure which one of the twins is speaking to me. 

"Silly of you to think that I need to use anything," I reply, "since I'm not the one who got detention again." 

"It's just a matter of time," Fred says, and he flashes something silver and pointy at me. "You should see what we've got planned for this week." 

I glare at him. "Maybe I'm done playing your games." 

"Maybe," George agrees, "but we're not." 

"Where are you coming from anyway?" I ask suspiciously. "Probably buying stolen potion ingredients or something from that old pub." 

They look at each other, and then back at me. "You're sneakier than we thought," Fred says, "and obviously a stalker. Did you learn that from the girls in your grade?" 

I think about the weird crush that Olivia had on George in our second year, until she realized that they were blood traitors. Come to think of it, I had probably struck a nerve with her too. 

"I was taking a walk, for your information," I reply. "And you didn't answer my question." 

"I don't think we have to," Fred answers. "Since you already answered it yourself. We have loads of stolen things." He holds up his bag, grinning. 

They're not going to tell me what they were doing. Probably trying to get firewhisky without a teacher seeing. Or maybe they were actually buying stolen goods. Either way, I realize, I shouldn't care. 

"If you're that interested in what we're doing, you can always test out one of our Skiving Snackboxes," George says. "Our nosebleed nougats are popular." 

"Skiving..." I mutter. "I suppose that'll make me grow fur all over my body instead?" 

"More like make you shrivel up," Fred says. "We haven't found an antidote yet." 

"While this conversation was absolutely fascinating," I say dryly, "I have to go. Don't bother talking to me again. I meant it when I said I'm done." 

I turn into the Three Broomsticks, where I know Daphne probably is, and thankfully they don't follow. I wouldn't be able to explain that to everyone else if they saw me. 

"I'm sorry," I say to Daphne, once we're walking back to the castle without the group of Slytherin girls. "I lost my temper earlier." 

"Pansy was out of line," she replies, surprising me. 

"Oh." All of the arguments I had come up with leave me, and I'm at a loss for what to say. I was sure she'd be furious with me. 

"But they were right about how you've been acting lately," she continues. "I worry about you sometimes, Leah." 

"Well you'll be happy to know that I told them that I'm done," I say. "The Weasley twins caught me on my walk back to the Shrieking Shack." 

She eyes me for a second, and then says, "I'm glad. You shouldn't be wasting your time like that, or our house points." 

As we walk to the castle, our conversation goes back to normal, and I find myself forgetting all about my father or Fred and George.


	4. Chapter 4

The next Monday, there's a notice posted by the High Inquisitor saying that all student organizations at Hogwarts are disbanded. 

"The Slytherin Quidditch team has been approved, of course," Draco Malfoy says. He's sitting across the table from us at lunch, right next to Pansy, who's still pointedly ignoring me. 

"Does that mean that she got to the Quidditch teams too, then?" I say, to Daphne, who's trying to read her Charms textbook and eat at the same time. 

She nods. "They're technically an organization, too." 

My eyes drift towards the Gryffindor table, where I can see Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan deep in conversation. I wonder if they're worried, and then realize that I shouldn't care. 

"I suppose it doesn't concern us, either," I say. "Unless they've decided to cancel Charms Club." I was a member of that, actually, not exactly by choice. Daphne had convinced me to join last year, saying that it would look better if we looked more involved in the school once we were looking for jobs. 

"I doubt it," Daphne says, turning a page in her book. 

"Come on," I say, "It's time for class." 

In potions, I notice that Fred and George have been oddly quiet -- probably something about Angelina threatening them to be on their best behavior again until the Gryffindor team got its status back as a real organization. 

Turning back to my work, I resolve not to look at them anymore. The potion that we've been assigned is particularly difficult, and I'm already finding it hard to concentrate. The room is filled with different-colored vapors, and my own cauldron is bubbling questionably. 

"Did you add the hellebore?" Daphne says, peering at my potion. 

"The what?" I look at my potions book, where I've jotted several notes down that Professor Snape had provided us. There's no hellebore. "No, but I added the leech juice." It's clearly stated in my handwriting. 

"Leah," she says, "it's supposed to be hellebore." She shows me her own notes, and I see the ingredient written in her neat handwriting. 

I hear a snort of laughter from behind me, and I know what happened. That damn quill. 

"D'you know if I can fix it, or should I just try to start over?" I sigh. 

"You have enough time," Daphne says. "If you hurry." 

I vanish my potion and get started for the second time, trying to ignore Fred and George. If I was in a better mood, I would admit that it was rather impressive that one of them had managed to copy my handwriting almost identically. 

By the end of class, my potion isn't as pretty as Daphne's, but it's satisfactory. I figure that I'll at least get an Acceptable.

"Shame that you had to redo your potion," Fred says, catching me on my way back from turning in my vial to Snape, who just gave me a really nasty look. Usually my work is better. 

"Nice try," I answer, "but I told you I was done." 

"We'll see." He grins. 

I roll my eyes, and follow Daphne out of the room. 

"I'm impressed," Daphne approves. "I thought you'd try to do something to lose us more house points." 

"I told you," I reply, "I realize I was being stupid. I'm going to try and let it go." The words feel wrong, but I still feel bad about making Daphne so cross with me the other day. 

"Very mature," she says. 

Why does mature have to sound so boring? 

We're walking down the main hallway, when I realize that I haven't been careful enough around the Weasley twins. 

"Miss Dolohov." A voice calls out to me from down the corridor. I turn, and see Filch approaching me, a nasty smile on his face. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to let me search your bag." 

"What for?" I demand. 

"I had a tip-off that you have fanged frisbees in your bag that you're planning on setting off in the hallway later," he sneers. 

"You're wrong," I say, "and I'm afraid that I don't have to show you anything." 

"Try me again, girl, and I'll have you in detention for a week," Filch threatens. 

I look at Daphne, who shrugs, but I see a look of accusation in her eyes. Maybe she hadn't really believed me, afterall. 

"Fine," I say, handing Filch my bookbag. "But be careful, I have a few ink pots in there." 

He rummages around in my bag for a second, before pulling a couple of fanged frisbees out. His expression is a bit too triumphant for my liking. "Anything you'd like to say for yourself?" 

"Those aren't mine," I say, rather lamely. "Someone must have slipped them in my bag." I knew exactly who it was, too. Fred hadn't really meant to talk to me -- he had pulled the same trick that I had on him weeks before. 

"Professor!" Filch get the attention of Professor McGonagall, who is walking past us at that exact moment. "I've found who was planning on throwing the fanged frisbees." 

"Is this true?" Professor McGonagall gives me a stern look. 

"They were in her bag!" Filch says. "I found them myself." 

"Well, Miss Dolohov," McGonagall says, "I suppose I'll have to give you detention tonight." 

I gape at her, but hold off on arguing. I've seen plenty of students get more days of detention that way, and I don't want to give Fred the satisfaction of knowing that his plan went better than expected. 

"Yes, Professor," I respond, instead. 

Daphne glares at me reproachfully when they're gone. "Honestly," she says, "I actually believed you." 

"They weren't mine," I insist. "It was those damn Weasleys." 

Daphne shakes her head. "At this point, I don't know if I believe you Leah." 

"What's so bad about pulling a few pranks anyway?" I demand, my patience waning. "I don't see why you're so offended by everything that I do. I just stopped because I knew you were upset with me last weekend, not because I wanted to." 

"It's like you don't care anymore!" She shouts, losing her temper. 

I freeze. I've only seen Daphne this angry once before, and it was at a third year who had knocked ink all over a paper that she'd been writing in our fifth year. OWL stress. 

"Maybe I don't," I say. "Why should I? It's not like I'm going to get hired at the Ministry anyway, no matter how many clubs I join." 

"I was just trying to help you." 

"Oh, so you can make me some sort of charity case? 'Look, there's Ophelia Dolohov, her life must be so awful because her father was a Death Eater and no on likes her. I know, I'll fix it by making her life miserable!'" 

Daphne turns and storms away from me. I realize that our argument has drawn a lot of attention from the other students walking by. 

"Enjoying yourselves?" I snap at them, and then make my way outside, pushing past a few confused-looking first years. 

-:-

I skip Charms that day, not wanting to see Daphne again after our fight. I even skip dinner, but regret it when I end up in detention with Professor McGonagall. She has me sorting out materials for her transfiguration classes -- counting needles and other small objects for the first years -- and then helping her grade a few of the first-year papers. 

"I trust that you can handle this?" She asks me. 

"Yes, Professor," I say, taking the papers. I guess I could be thankful that I'm here in her office, rather than spending time in the dungeon with Filch. If he had his way, I'd be cleaning out bedpans in the Hospital Wing. Actually, I'd probably be hanging from my toes in the dungeon or something, if I recall what he's said before correctly. 

It's quiet in her office, and I don't find myself hating it completely. If anything, it's giving me something to do that's not avoiding Daphne in the common room. 

When I'm finished -- around midnight -- Professor McGonagall inspects my work. 

"Nicely done," she says. "I hope that I won't be seeing you again in my office for this reason again?" 

"Yes, Professor." 

"I've noticed that you've been more distracted in class recently," McGonagall continues. "Is there a reason for this?" 

I shrug, not wanting to go into details. 

"You're a bright student," she continues, ignoring my silence. "If you keep working hard, I have no doubt that you'll score highly on your NEWTs." 

"Thank you," I reply, not meeting her eyes. 

"You've had your advisory meetings with Professor Snape already," McGonagall says. "Have you thought about what you want to do after you graduate from Hogwarts?" 

"If I'm being completely honest," I answer, "not at all. I've never fancied myself as someone who would have a job at the Ministry." Which was exactly what I had told Snape I wanted in my fifth year, for some stupid reason. Probably just copying Daphne so I didn't have to think about it. 

"Well then," she says, "you might want to start thinking about what you want to do, Miss Dolohov. There are plenty of other jobs to consider. I know it might be hard not to do what others expect of you, but it's ultimately up to you." 

I look up at her then, and she's not glaring, or even looking at me sternly. She's giving me a tiny smile. 

I smile back, despite how frustrated I've felt all day. "I'll think about it, Professor." 

"Have a good night then," McGonagall says, "and, Miss Dolohov?" 

"Yes?" 

"Don't worry too much about the Weasley twins. I worry that you're only encouraging them more."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you coming?" Olivia asks me. "We're going to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice."

"Why?" I say, feeling annoyed. I can see that Daphne is with the group of girls, stonily ignoring me.

"Don't bother with Olivia," Pansy sneers. "She's not invited." I guess Pansy still isn't over our argument the other day.

"I'm okay, thanks." I tell Olivia. "I don't feel like pretending to like Pansy right now."

I watch them leave the common room, feeling a little relieved for the first time that Daphne isn't on speaking terms with me. At least I don't have to spend time with her friends anymore, at least not for a while.

I spend the evening in the Common Room, going to bed after a group of fourth-years come into the room, talking loudly.

The week is long, and incredibly boring. Daphne and I go out of our way not to talk to each other, seeing as how we both feel like the other needs to apologize first.

As for Fred and George, I expect them to be more subdued, since their first Quidditch practice had gone so horribly (I heard Olivia talking about it when she came into the dormitory to go to sleep). Instead, they seem to be in as good of spirits as ever.

"How was detention?" Fred asks me. The Weasley twins manage to catch me as I'm leaving the Great Hall, after a solitary breakfast.

"It was fine," I smirk. "How was Quidditch practice?"

"Incredible," he says, "I expect we'll be beating Slytherin in our first match of the season."

"Isn't the new Keeper your brother?" I say. "I heard he was awful."

"Not as awful as the Slytherin Captain this year," George cuts in. "I'm pretty sure I saw him getting lost on the way to your Common Room yesterday. Not very bright, that one."

Unfortunately, that was probably true.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Greengrass?" Fred says.

"I don't see why that's any of your business."

"Did you lose your only friend?" He gives me a look of mock-pity. "Have you been getting in too much trouble for her to handle?"

"Thanks to you," I mutter.

"We know you enjoy it," George grins. "I bet you're happy to finally have some excitement in your life that doesn't involve hexing other students."

"Get me detention again," I threaten, "and you're next."

"As far as we see it," Fred says, "we're just getting even..."

"And then some," George finishes.

"Fred! George!" I see Angelina following after us. "Come here a minute, I need to speak to you." She gives me a confused look.

I ignore her. "I suppose I'll see you in class. Don't bother me anymore."

-:-

My resolution to have nothing to do with the Weasley twins vanishes when I see what they're doing in Charms class.

"Put that bloody quill away," I hiss. Since I'm still avoiding Daphne, the only place in the room available was towards the back, where Fred and George sit.

Fred is brandishing the white quill, a smile on his face. "What d'you mean?"

"If you ruin my notes one more time, I'll make sure you get detention for a week." I scowl.

Angelina, who's sitting in front of me, turns around. "You'd better not," she warns. "I've been telling them to stay out of trouble. We don't need someone doing it for them." I recognize the look on her face -- the one she probably saves for Pansy.

"Oh, shove off," I tell her, a bit too loudly. The corner of the piece of parchment that I'm supposed to be writing my notes on catches on fire. I pat it out hastily, before Professor Flitwick sees.

Fred snickers. "I don't think it's us that you should be worried about right now."

"She's got some temper," George agrees.

"Settle down back there," Professor Flitwick says. "I would hate to take points away for disrupting class."

I turn away from the twins, still scowling. Angelina glowers at both the twins and me, and then turns back to her own work.

"Oi," I hear Lee Jordan whisper behind me, "are we testing more of the snackboxes tonight?"

"Can't," Fred whispers back, "we have the meeting, remember?"

I try to focus on writing my notes, but it's hard to concentrate with all of the whispering. Even worse, Professor Flitwick is currently in the front giving more instruction, and doesn't notice.

"The Puking Pastilles have almost sold out," George says. "I expect that the Nosebleed Nougats will too, once we've found the antidote."

They continue to talk to themselves about the products that they're working on selling the students. As hard as I try to tune them out, I can't. I wonder if any of them care about their classes, and then remember Fred telling me that they weren't concerned about their grades.

What did they care about?

I'm just about done with my notes, when I feel something crawling on my hand. I look down, to see what looks like about twenty spiders on my hands and my notes.

"Aah!" I shout, knocking my inkpot over. It spills, ruining everything that I had written.

Fred and George laugh loudly behind me, obviously pleased with themselves.

"Really!" Professor Flitwick gives us a disdainful look. "Five points from Slytherin and ten from Gryffindor."

I see Daphne turn from where she's sitting in the front to glare at me. I ignore her.

"Creepy Crawlies," Fred whispers to me. "They're something we came up with last year. Never tested on anyone before, though. It worked better than I thought."

The next day, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I throw a couple of Filibuster's at Fred when I'm sure Umbridge isn't looking. They go off, causing a great ruckus, and he's given detention by a sneering Umbridge.

It was almost too easy, picking this class. Umbridge already can't stand Fred and George, since they had argued with her the first day of class.

I'm only disappointed that I couldn't get George too.

"That was nothing," I tell them.

"I agree, I thought you could do better than that," Fred says. "I'd say you just made the class more exciting."

"At least my evening is free," I answer.

-:-

A few more weeks pass. Daphne still isn't speaking to me, nor I to her. I find myself really missing her company, but my stubbornness keeps me from approaching her.

Besides, I think, maybe I really was just a charity case to her.

I feel myself becoming even more of a pariah among the other members of my house. The girls in my grade still talk to me occasionally, but Pansy and her group of girls have apparently written me off as a lost cause.

The younger Slytherins, however, seem to regard me with a mix of fear and curiosity. I guess the rumors that I curse people on sight have started to circle again.

I vaguely wonder, at one point, if this is what it feels like to be Harry Potter this year. Then, I brush the thought off. At least I'm not raving mad. 

Since it's Saturday, and I don't feel like staying inside all day, I decide to take a walk around outside. It's cold, but not snowing yet, which suits me just fine. I find a spot close to the lake, and sit down, opening my Charms textbook to make up the notes that I had missed the other day, again thanks to Fred.

I spend about an hour and a half, content outside, when I hear footsteps. I look up, half expecting Fred and George, but I see Pansy and a few other girls instead. Daphne is with them, but she seems more preoccupied in talking to Olivia. 

"You're in our spot," Pansy snaps. 

"Are we in third year again?" I move my eyes back to the page of my textbook. "Why don't you just tell me what nasty thing you wanted to say so that we can get it over with? I need to catch up on my classes." 

I guess she mistakes my sarcasm for an invitation, because they don't move. 

"Disappointed that it wasn't the Weasley's coming to talk to you?" Pansy sneers. "I've seen the way you look at them. It's disgusting." 

I ignore this, trying to read something about Cheering Charms. 

"If you wanted to be a blood traitor," she continues, "you could have picked someone more attractive at least. Unless you like them like that. It really offsets your... charm." 

I turn the page, sighing. There's no way I'm going to get any peace. 

My book is kicked out of my hands by Pansy. I watch it flop into the dirt. "Oops," she smiles, in a surprisingly good imitation of Umbridge. I think about telling her this, but I hold my tongue. "I guess I should be more careful. I doubt your aunt could afford another one. Or is this the one that Flitwick was letting you borrow? You know, since your family hasn't had any money since your mother left--" 

I hit her with a hex before she can say another word. Well, really just a charm. 

Pansy gawks at me, opening her mouth, but no sound comes out. 

"Come to think of it," I say, "that's true. My mum did leave me, and my father is, obviously a Death Eater. Are you really in the mood to be hexed that bad, Pansy? You could have just made my job easier and told me." 

"What did you do!?" One of Pansy's fifth-year friends accuses me. 

"Oh shut up," I snap. "It's just a silencing charm." 

Pansy is grabbing at her throat, as if she can't breathe, but I know she's just making a big deal out of it. 

"Now," I say, "get out of my sight before I actually curse you." 

When they're finally gone, I feel the urge to fight back tears. The only person who had known about my mother was Daphne.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm given detention, obviously. Once someone manages to remove the spell from Pansy which -- I heard from school gossip -- was hard to do. Good. 

I spend two days with Professor Snape, cleaning out potion ingredients that have gone rotten. He doesn't say much to me, which I like. I don't think I can handle another Professor trying to interrogate me. 

I spend a lot of my time outside when I can, before the weather gets too cold and I have to find another place to hide. I think I've found a good spot now, towards the back of the castle, and close -- but not too close -- to the Whomping Willow. 

Which is why it's so surprising when Fred and George approach me. 

"Oi," Fred says, "aren't you supposed to be hexing more fifth years?" 

I roll my eyes. I'm not even bothering to study today. Instead, I've been staring at the Whomping Willow, wondering how hard it would have to hit me to get knocked into the hospital week for a few weeks. Maybe some rest is what I need. 

"If you're talking about Pansy," I answer, "it was a silencing charm." 

"And a powerful one at that," George answers. "We were strangely impressed." 

"I'm afraid it might have inspired another one of our products." Fred grins. 

I'm curious, but I don't want to admit it. "Why are you here?" I say. "Or did you want to test it out on yourself?" 

"Just passing through," Fred says. "Wanted to ask you a question actually." 

"What?" I demand. 

"Have you been passing your classes this year? Or have our little jokes been really messing with your classwork?" 

"If you call testing out all of your most obnoxious inventions on me 'little jokes'," I say, "then I don't want to know what it means to be pranked by you." 

They stay silent, and I realize I didn't answer Fred's question. 

"My grades are fine," I answer. "Slipping, no thanks to you, but I'm still passing. Now get lost." 

When they're gone, I reckon that I had gotten a compliment from the twins. That throws me off almost as much as their pranks. 

-:-

I soon realize that getting the twins' approval one time doesn't mean that they're going to let up on me. On the contrary, the next day I find myself caught in a small blizzard in the hallway. Instead of retaliating later on, I scoop up a pile of snow from the floor and dump it onto Fred's grinning face. 

Of course, that's where Filch finds us, covered in snow in the middle of the corridor. We're both given detention by an annoyed Snape. 

"What d'you think about this one?" Fred says to me. "It doesn't have a name yet. We thought it was rather festive." 

"You absolute moron," I say. "You've landed us both in detention!" 

He shrugs, looking unconcerned. There are still flakes of snow in his hair, and he shakes them out hastily. "George and I agree that you're not really a Hogwarts student until you've been on one of Filch's detentions." 

"Maybe you can nick some of our stuff back from his filing cabinet," George, who had just turned up, says. 

That's how I find myself in the trophy room with Fred. Filch tells us, sneering, that we are to polish all of the trophies without magic. 

I do my best to ignore him for a few minutes, until curiosity wins me over. "So what d'you want to do with that blizzard thing anyway?" 

"We don't know yet," Fred answers, casually polishing a trophy. I'm happy to notice that most of them look freshly polished already. Filch had probably lost track of the last time he'd given this as a punishment -- we wouldn't have to stay late tonight. "We're still thinking about how to market it. Did you like it?" 

"No," I say automatically. "But I suppose I would if it hadn't gotten me detention." 

"Fair enough," he agrees. Then, to my surprise, he says, "It's rare to get a compliment from you. I'll try harder to figure out how to make it better."

I eye him warily, but he's polishing another trophy so I can't see his face. 

"So what's next?" I ask. "Portable swamps too?" 

Fred laughs. "I can't give away all of our secrets, can I?" 

I roll my eyes, turning away from him again to finish up a plaque inscribed with the names of past Quidditch Captains. I see a newer name at the bottom -- Angelina Johnson. 

I don't know if my social skills are severely lacking now that I have no friends left, but before I can stop myself I blurt out, "Are you and Johnson still dating?" 

Fred looks confused for a second, and then a grin appears on his face. Mocking me. "Interested in me, are you?"

"Don't be stupid," I snap, embarrassed now. What was I doing, asking stupid questions like that? "I just mean," I say, "it seems like she's the only one you actually listen to. Sometimes." 

"We're not together anymore," he answers. "But as she's our Quidditch Captain, we feel like we should make an effort to be better... when she's looking. What about you? Still dating Turner?" 

"God no," I say. "That was a mistake." 

Marcus Turner was a Ravenclaw student our age that Daphne had tried to set me up with in our fifth year. He had been rather dull for a Ravenclaw. Our blind date had ended with me walking out after he asked me if I could teach him about the Dark Arts, for learning purposes. 

He laughs again. "He's a prat." 

"A big one," I agree. "Almost as big as you." 

"This beats Umbridge's detention," Fred argues. "I'd say you got off easy. What did you do for McGonagall anyway? Have a cup of tea with her?" 

"No," I answer. "We graded papers. What do you mean about Umbridge?" 

"I spent all evening writing lines," he replies. "Much worse than helping my dear Head of House." 

"I don't see how that can be that bad," I disagree. Maybe he meant that it was worse because Umbridge was so unlikeable. 

We spend the few hours talking. Not about anything important. Fred gives in eventually and tells me about a few more ideas that they had for the joke shop they're planning on starting after school ends. I find myself offering suggestions on what to change, or what charms to use to make them more effective. 

In fact, I don't notice that we're almost done, until we're mid-conversation and I'm right next to him, helping him finish off a large trophy that says "Gobstones Championship 1941". 

Being this close to him, I finally notice an interestingly-shaped scar on his right hand. Examining it closer, I see that they're words. 

"I will not... disrupt class." I read the words slowly. "But that's..." I trail off, and I'm sure my face looks horrified. "Those are lines. How did that--" 

"Umbridge's special quill," Fred says, cutting me off. 

"That's what you meant," I say, feeling my stomach sink. It looked like the words had been carved into his hands. "I didn't know." 

"Why would you?" He finishes cleaning off the trophy, getting the spot that I had missed because I had become so distracted. "I'm sure she doesn't give Slytherins the same treatment." 

"I'm sorry," I say, finally, still feeling disgusted. "If I had known that she was doing that, I wouldn't have gotten you detention in that class." 

"It wasn't just because of you," he dismisses my apology. "George and I have already gotten detention from her for other reasons." 

Still, I promise to myself that Umbridge's class is off-limits from now on. 

Filch comes in at that moment, clearly looking for something to be displeased about. When he finds all of the trophies polished to perfection, however, he tells us to get to our common rooms or we'll get another. 

"Not very friendly, is he?" Fred says. 

I shake my head, still distracted. I say goodnight to him before we part ways.

"I hope this never happens again," I tell him, trying to sound like I meant it. My voice feels hollow. 

When I make it to bed, I realize again that the only person I really want to talk to isn't speaking to me. For a second, I think about waking Daphne up to tell her about Umbridge's quill. Then, I remember Pansy's words from earlier. 

I go to sleep, still feeling uneasy. 

-:-

The first Quidditch match of the season happens that weekend, and I end up going, deciding that it might not be so bad to do something other than studying or trying to avoid getting detention again. 

Despite my conversation with Fred the other night, the Weasley twins haven't let up at all on me. I do notice, though, that the pranks are largely in the corridors between classes now. 

As I make my way up the stands, looking for a spot, I see Olivia waving me over. 

"Sit by us!" She says, brightly. I'm surprised not to see the usual sour look on her face today. "Have you heard the new song?" 

"The what?" I say. 

"Oh, you'll get it." She offers no other explanation. 

"Hi Leah!" Another girl in my grade says. "I'm glad you could join us." 

I look at the group that Olivia is sitting with. No Pansy, or Daphne, in sight. I see them sitting a few rows ahead of us, with a few of Pansy's friends. 

Olivia sees me staring, and says, "Don't worry about them." 

I give her a suspicious look. "Why aren't you sitting with Pansy? Aren't you friends?" 

"We decided that we needed a break from her," another girl tells me. "We think it was good of you to put her in her place the other day." 

"She was getting a little insufferable," Olivia agrees. "Oh, the game's starting!" 

I can see the players standing in the middle of the pitch. It looks like Angelina and the Slytherin Captain are seeing who can crush each other's hand the hardest during the handshake. 

It's a good game, I think. I had never been that into Quidditch before, but games between Slytherin and Gryffindor had always been highly anticipated. 

Something happens when the Gryffindor Keeper, Fred and George's little brother, fails to block the Quaffle. The Slytherins around me, begin singing. 

"Weasley is our King!" Olivia bellows along with the rest of them. I jump a little, startled by how loud it is. 

I catch Fred's eye as he's flying by our part of the field. He looks like he's trying to stay focused on a bludger that looks like it's heading towards Harry Potter, but seems to notice me on the way. After hitting the bludger towards Malfoy, he grins at me. 

I give him a shrug in response. I guess I had missed the song practice. 

Gryffindor wins, but narrowly. I listen to Olivia's disappointed chatter as we get ready to go back to the castle. 

Then, there are screams coming from the pitch. I see Harry Potter and one of the Weasleys (I can't tell who since I'm sitting so far away) tackle Draco Malfoy to the ground and begin punching him. 

They get in a few good hits, before they're pulled off by one of the Professors. 

When I see Fred in the corridors the next day, I say, "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed that it wasn't you who got detention. Maybe you'd cool it on the pranks and I'd be able to get some work done." I had found out later that it was George who had attacked Malfoy. 

"Why would I do that?" He puts his wand back into his pocket. In front of us, I see that someone -- Montague -- has tripped. "George and I were both banned indefinitely from Quidditch." 

"Really? By who?" I demand. McGonagall had looked furious, but I doubted that she would have given them a punishment that harsh. 

"Umbridge," he says. "She says that we're too dangerous, or something like that. I heard it second-hand from George. Didn't stop her from confiscating my broom." 

I say nothing, my mind still processing this bit of information. 

He walks away then, and I feel a little sad.


	7. Chapter 7

"We'll be continuing our work on transfiguring ourselves today," Professor McGonagall says. "Wands out." 

I take my wand out, distracted by something that Fred had written on the bottom of my notes with that quill. 

Good thing Umbridge isn't observing today.

I turn and glare at him. He only grins. 

"As you will remember from my last lesson," McGonagall continues, over the shuffling sound of students taking out their wands, "this kind of disguising magic is helpful for anyone in the Auror career. If you've been paying attention in History of Magic, there are many times in history when wizards have gotten themselves out of a bind with a well-placed disguise." 

"I don't see why everyone gets to learn it then," a student in front of me whispers to her friend, "it's a bit like giving away our secrets, don't you think?" She notices me staring at her, and stops talking immediately. 

I roll my eyes, and get to work. Transfiguring myself makes me a little nervous, to tell the truth. I'm just about to work up the nerve to start changing the shape of my nose, when my wand turns into a rubber chicken with a loud bang. 

"Miss Dolohov!" Professor McGonagall scolds me. "Is everything all right?" 

Fred and George are barely able to hide their laughter. 

"Yes, Professor," I say. When I see her instructing another student, who hasn't managed to change anything at all, I turn around to Fred and George. "Give me back my real wand," I hiss. "Now. I can't get detention from her again." 

"Check your pocket," George whispers back. 

I do, and I find my wand there as if I had placed it myself. 

"You should keep your face like that," I tell George. His eyebrows have grown too long, and look like an extension of his own hair now. "It's an improvement." 

"I agree," Fred says. "You look almost as good as me now. Dolohov, you should try keeping your nose like that as well. It suits you." 

I touch my nose, and realize that it's grown about twice its size. 

"You prat!" I say. "I'll get you back for this." 

"What are you going to do?" Fred gloats. "Tell me off for making it look like you've actually done some work?" 

I'd give him something to laugh at. I point my wand and say, "Rictusempra!" Unfortunately for me, the spell hits Lee Jordan instead, who starts laughing so uncontrollably that he shoots sparks from his own wand that hit Olivia in the face. 

"Ouch!" She cries. She's not burnt, just startled. 

"Oh, sorry Olivia," I say. But I'm laughing too, tears forming in my eyes. Fred and George can't hold it back any longer, and are howling with laughter, as George tries to find the words to remove the charm from Lee. 

"Detention!" Shouts McGonagall, after she removes the charm from Lee. "For the week!" 

That shuts me up. "That's unfair!" I say. "It was a tickling charm!" 

"And detention for you two as well," McGonagall says to Fred and George, who are still laughing. "For the disruption. Maybe a week of cleaning classrooms will do you good." 

"Please Professor," Lee says, "I'm not hurt, honestly." 

"That's enough," she warns him. And then to me, she says, "I'm disappointed. I hope you start showing more effort in your studies." 

I notice that she doesn't bother telling Fred and George this, choosing to give them a scathing look instead. I wonder what's put her in such a bad mood, then remember that I had seen Umbridge walking out of her room before class. 

-:-

As I'm sweeping the floor of one of the classrooms in detention, Fred and George talk openly to each other about their product sales in the school. I find that I don't mind the chatter anymore. 

"Really out of all the spells to use on us, you pick the tickling charm." Fred says to me, after a few minutes. I realize that they're talking about me. 

"Is that surprising to you?" I ask, finishing up my sweeping. The twins, I realize, have barely started wiping down the chalkboard. "You'd better hurry up, I'm not doing all of the cleaning." 

"I guess we thought you would use something a bit darker, is all," George replies. He starts cleaning again, looking a bit guilty. 

Fred continues talking. "We weren't sure what you'd think about the joke wand. You seemed a bit tense today." 

"That joke wand wasn't bad," I admit. "I might have thought it was funnier though, if I was eleven." 

George lets out a snort of laughter, his back turned to us. Fred starts cleaning, too. 

"How did you get into a fight with Malfoy anyway?" I ask, trying to remove an ink stain off of a table. It looks like Peeves has been in here. 

"He insulted our family," Fred says. "Besides, I've been waiting for an excuse to hit him." 

"You didn't do anything!"   
"I would have," Fred replies, "if they hadn't been holding me back." 

"I guess I understand," I say, after a moment. "About people insulting my family. Not that I like them much anyway." 

"Aren't you supposed to be proud of your pureblood status?" George asks. 

I shrug. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly chuffed that my father is in prison. I don't even know my family that well, if you don't count my aunt." Aunt Opal was my mother's sister, and had taken me in reluctantly. "Anyway," I change the subject, "that Umbridge woman is a toad." 

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Fred agrees. 

We clean in silence for a few minutes. I don't find it awful, being around them like this. 

"So," I say, eventually, "are you planning on doing anything with that quill you keep using on me?" 

Fred shrugs. "Just thinking about mass producing it when we open the joke shop." 

"We're still trying to come up with a clever enough name for it," George says. 

"You know, if you could figure out how to make a quill that corrects your spelling, I think that would do well," I say, still trying to remove the ink. "Or a quill that gives smart answers on homework would be nice too." 

"That's a good idea," Fred allows. 

I look up, and see that they're both staring at me. "Thanks," I smile.

"Come to think of it," George says, "you gave us a pretty good idea the other day. Something about a portable swamp..." 

They get back to talking about their business, this time asking me for my opinions on things. I give them feedback on a few products -- they did test a lot of them me, after all. 

Detention goes by quicker than usual after that. Despite being the reason for my being there in the first place, I like talking to them. 

"You really do put a lot of work into your business," I say, when we're on our fourth classroom. It's getting late, and I wonder when McGonagall will come and tell us that we're done for the night. "I don't want to say I'm impressed, but I kind of am." 

"Watch it, you," Fred grins. "We're going to think you're up to something." 

"Not this time," I assure him.

When we're finished, I walk back to the common room, smiling. 

Pansy mocks me the next morning. "Looks like you're enjoying yourself, Ophelia. Be careful, we wouldn't want to think that you actually liked hanging around with the Weasleys." 

"Better that having to hang around you," I say, sweetly. 

Olivia laughs, and then stops when Pansy glares at her. 

I'll never admit it, but I actually enjoy detention with Fred and George, even after they try to get me to have a Fizzing Whizzbee that Fred pulls from his pocket. 

"Do you think I'm stupid?" I say. "I know you did something to that. Besides, I don't like sweets much." 

"I'm offended," Fred replies. "I thought we were on friendlier terms now." 

"I've seen how you treat your friends," I accuse. "You gave Lee Jordan something that turned him into a large bird the other day." 

"He did that voluntarily, actually," George says. "But you're right, Fred did jinx that one you just refused." 

I roll my eyes. Clearly I still had to be careful around them. 

We continue to talk for the rest of the week, and it feels like it goes by fast. I find myself thinking that maybe I've just been more desperate to have someone to talk to than I thought. 

Or maybe, says a small voice in my mind, they're not as bad as you think. 

On the last day, I'm actually a little disappointed, until Fred interrupts my thoughts. 

"Is everything okay in there?" He asks, waving a hand over my face. "If you'd like to daydream, you can test out a new one of our products for us." 

"I'm not daydreaming," I mutter, shooting him an annoyed look. 

"Good choice," George says. "We still haven't figured out how to control how long you'd be out and still have another classroom to clean before we're finished." 

"We were thinking," Fred says, "we can stop with the pranks during class." 

"Really?" I reply. "And why should I believe that?"

"Well, obviously we don't want to get weeks of detention," Fred continues, "seeing as how we're missing out on a lot of important business opportunities." 

I shrug. "Sounds good to me." If it was a trick, I suppose I'll see what they really meant later on. 

But Fred and George really do keep their word. The next week, they hardly acknowledge me at all in class. I spend most of my days still suspicious of them -- doing things like taking double copies of my notes (with a spell I found in the library) and making sure to check my bag and wand every-so-often. Nothing happens, though. 

Part of me feels let down. Maybe they had decided that I wasn't worth pranking anymore, since we had gotten along better in detention. Maybe I was wrong when I said that they treated their friends the same. 

In fact, I had thought that things really had changed, until I had picked up my teacup in the Great Hall and it bit me in the nose. 

"Ouch!" I shout, dropping the cup. Instead of shattering, it bounces away from me on the floor, probably looking for another victim. 

From the Gryffindor table, I see Fred and George laughing loudly. 

"Nose-biting teacup!" Shouts Fred, over the noise. "D'you like it?" 

"I thought you were done with the pranks!" I shout back. A few people at the Slytherin table turn to stare at me. I ignore them. 

"Didn't we tell you?" He says. "Weekends and in-between classes are free game!" 

I turn away from him so he doesn't see my smile. 

Olivia does, though. "What is going on with you?" 

I can't tell her. I'm not sure myself.


	8. Chapter 8

A couple of days before we were to leave for the winter holidays, I receive a letter in the Great Hall. Confused, I open the letter, avoiding the curious gaze of the other girls, who have still chosen to sit next to me at breakfast. Pansy, who had realized that the other girls had stopped ignoring me, was sitting with them, pretending that I didn't exist. 

The letter was in my aunt's handwriting, and looked like it had already been opened. 

"Is someone going through our mail?" I examine the letter, frowning. 

"Oh, you didn't know," Olivia says. "Everything is being searched by the High Inquisitor now." 

Not wanting to get into a conversation about how I never received any mail, I turned back to the letter: 

Ophelia, 

I have arranged for you to come home over the holidays. There are some things that we need to discuss. 

It's not signed, but it's obviously from Opal. I glare at the letter, feeling annoyed. Spending time with Aunt Opal wasn't exactly horrible, but it wasn't like she made much of an effort to talk to me, or ask how I was doing. 

"Oh, you're going home too!" Olivia says brightly, reading my letter over my shoulder. 

"Do you mind?" I snap. 

It's like she doesn't notice my irritation. "I would have thought that you and Daphne would have made up by now. Don't you usually go to her house for Christmas?" 

I see Daphne turn at her name, notice that it's Olivia talking to me, and then turn back to her Potions notes. We still haven't spoken, and it's been over a month. 

"I don't think that will be happening this year," I tell Olivia. "Anyway, it looks like my aunt wants to tell me something." 

Olivia prattles on, talking about her plans for the holidays. I try to pay attention, inputting something every time she pauses, but it's difficult. I wonder what Opal wants to tell me. She hardly ever sends mail. 

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, I receive a different kind of mail. When Umbridge's back is turned, a piece of parchment folded in the shape of a dragon falls on my desk. 

I open it hastily under my desk, seeing Fred's handwriting. 

Meet us outside after class at the spot by the Whomping Willow. 

I shoot him a discreet look, and nod, trying to look like I'm learning something. To tell the truth, Fred and George didn't have to do anything to tank my grades in this class -- my own inattention was doing it for me. 

On my way out of the castle, I dodge Peeves, who is throwing ornaments like snowballs, and make my way down to the place where Fred and George had found me avoiding everyone weeks ago. 

"Oi!" George shouts, when he sees me walking over. "Over here!" 

"What is it?" I ask. 

"We thought we'd give you the day off since it's almost Christmas," Fred says. "Here, it's your idea." He hands me a blue quill. 

I study it, almost expecting bubotuber pus to hit me in the face if I move it the wrong way. "Is this?" 

"It's a quill that will spellcheck anything you write." George says, brightly. "We decided to try it out, since we had some time." 

I stare at it in my hands, oddly touched. "Oh," I say, lamely. 

"Test it out," Fred insists. 

I take out a sheet of scrap parchment from my bookbag and try it out. It works perfectly. 

"It's brilliant," I say. 

"Keep it," George grins. "We've figured out how to make loads more already. They're almost ready to sell. Sometimes they get i and e mixed up." 

"Are you sure?" I ask. 

"Very," Fred replies. "We figure you can't do anything too dodgy with it." But the grin is still on his face, and I know he's joking. 

"I dunno." I write some more with the quill, amazed. "I might be able to forge a letter of expulsion for you or something with this." 

They show me a few more things that they've been developing, and I offer a few suggestions on charms that they might want to try to improve them. 

"I'd show you biggest thing we've been working on," Fred says, "but we want it to be a surprise." 

"As long as it's not during Potions or something," I mutter. 

"We haven't forgotten about the deal," George assures me.

"I should go," I say, finally, "I've got to start on the essay for Charms tomorrow." 

We say goodbye, and I'm only about twenty steps away before a snowball hits me square in the back of the head. 

I hear Fred laughing as I shake snow out of my hair. I flick my wand, and a snowball hits Fred in his laughing face. 

"See you in class!" I call, dodging more snowballs that are coming my way. 

Laughing, and dripping with melted snow, I walk back through the main hallway. Any feelings that I had of spending time at home for Christmas have gone away. 

-:-

The next day, Fred and George aren't in Potions. I assume that they're skiving off to sell more of their inventions before the winter holidays, but when I go to Transfiguration, they're absent there, too. 

"Looking for the Weasleys?" Montague asks me with a sneer. "They've gone." 

"Why d'you know that?" I ask him. "Looking for them yourself?" 

"No, Malfoy told me that something happened to their Muggle-loving father. He was attacked last night at the Ministry by a huge snake." 

"You're full of it," I say. I knew that Fred and George's father worked for the ministry, but there was no reason why that would happen. I chalk it up to Montague being an idiot. 

But I don't see them the next day, either. 

"Miss Dolohov, please stay after class." Professor Umbridge gives me what I assume she thinks is a kind smile. "I would like to speak to you." 

Daphne, for the first time in weeks, turns and stares at me. As if she realizes what she's done, she looks away quickly. I feel a small twinge of guilt, and I don't know why. 

"Yes, Professor?" I approach Umbridge. She's wearing a particularly ugly pink cardigan -- the same one that she was wearing when she first came to Hogwarts. 

"I've been meaning to discuss your performance in my class with you," Umbridge says. "If I may be honest, you haven't impressed me as much as I thought." 

"Er..." I trail off, not sure what to say to that. "I'm sorry?" 

"Not a problem, dear," she insists, "but if you're thinking about having a job at the Ministry when you graduate, I would advise you to think about bringing your grades up." 

It was true that my grade was only Acceptable at this point. Mostly because I didn't see the point of copying the textbook when I could be focusing on something more meaningful, like Transfiguration. 

"Who told you that?" I ask. "I mean, did Daphne--" 

"Miss Greengrass has expressed concern for you," Umbridge continues, "she seems to be worried that you're associating with the wrong types of people." 

"If I'm being honest, Professor," I say, "I'm not sure if a Ministry job is what I'm looking for anymore." 

"Nonsense." She smiles widely. "I have no doubt that it would suit you well. You come from a very intelligent family." 

I balk at her. Did she mean my father? There was no doubt that he was good at school -- Aunt Opal had informed me of that -- but it wasn't like his ideals matched with the Ministry's. This was probably Daphne's doing. 

"If you're interested, of course," Umbridge says, ignoring my non-response, "I would like to offer you a sort of leadership role. If you get your grades up, that is, and improve your... behavior." She frowns. 

"I don't know, I already have a lot going on with NEWTs and Charms Club," I lie. I hadn't been to a meeting in months. "But thank you for the offer." 

She dismisses me then, and I wonder what she's playing at. It's my last class of the term, and I'm on my way back to the common room to get my things packed, when I see Professor McGonagall. 

"Er, Professor?" I say. 

"Yes, Miss Dolohov?" She peers at me through her spectacles. "Did you need me?" 

"I just wanted to say that I was sorry for all of the trouble I've caused in your class," I say, "and... er... have a good holiday." 

She looks surprised for a second, and then the corner of her mouth twitches. Did I just see her smile? "Thank you. I've noticed that you've been working harder." 

I smile, thinking about my agreement with the Weasley twins. "I've been thinking more about my future. I'm not sure what I want to do yet, but I figured it wouldn't be bad to open up all of my options. I want to score well on my NEWTs." 

"If you need any guidance from me, come to my office." McGonagall is back to her usual tone, but her face looks softer. 

"I will," I promise. "Thank you, Professor." 

I start to turn away, and then remember what Montague had said earlier. "Oh, Professor?" 

"Yes, Miss Dolohov?" 

"Is it true that Fred and George had to leave early?" The question blurts out before I can stop it. 

"Where did you...?" She trails off, and then notices that I'm still waiting. "Yes, they had a family emergency that they needed to tend to." 

Even though I was almost positive that they had left early, the thought makes me feel a little glum. 

-:-

When the Hogwarts Express pulls into the station, I feel slightly nervous. The other students chatter around me, excited to go home for the holidays. I watch a few of the families out of the window from where I'm sitting on the train. Despite the foggy weather, they look happy. 

I walk behind a group of third-years, who are laughing about something. In front of them, I catch the glint of blonde hair that would be Daphne. I wonder where her parents are. It's the first Christmas that I won't be spending with her family. 

Aunt Opal is waiting for me, like she had promised in the letter. She's a tall woman, with hair even lighter than mine, and a stern face. 

"So," she says, unsmiling, "are you going to explain to me all of the notes I've been getting about your 'sudden change in behavior'?"


	9. Chapter 9

"They sent you letters?" I say, my stomach dropping. 

"Several." Opal looks around warily, as if it's a hassle having to meet me here. I'm sure it is, for her. She never likes going out of the house if she can avoid it. "Let's get home, I need to talk to you about something that can't be said in public." 

Curious, I follow her as she stalks away, trying to ignore the sound of laughing families around me. It's just barely started to snow, and the sky is a bleak grey. For a second, I consider going back on the Hogwarts Express to beg them to take me back to school.

We take the Knight Bus to Opal's house -- a small cottage near a town where mostly magical folk live. Opal stares out the window, not meeting my eyes. Apparently, she looks a lot like my mother did. I wonder if dear old Mum was ever this strict. 

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Aunt Opal says, as soon as the door is shut. She flicks her wand, and it locks ominously. 

"I know," I answer, "and I just want to say that I was just pulling some pranks with a few... friends from school." I think about Fred and George then, and realize that they're as close to friends as I have right now. 

She shakes her head. "You know what I've told you about staying under the radar." Her eyes flick towards the window, as if she's expecting someone to be listening in on our conversation. "I've had enough to worry about without someone from the Ministry sending letters about your behavior at school." 

"Ministry?" I say, perplexed. 

"Professor Umbridge seems to be worried about your well-being," Opal accuses. "The new High Inquisitor." 

Umbridge was sending letters home? 

Before I can think of a response, she hits me with another remark. "You're bringing too much attention to our family." 

What family? I think. "I'm sorry," I say, instead. 

"I'm saying this for your own good," Opal insists. "You don't want to be attracting the wrong kind of attention. Your father--" 

"Is in Azkaban," I interrupt her, startled. "It's not like he's going to show up here or anything." 

"I have reason to believe that You-Know-Who has returned." She pulls her shawl around her a little tighter as she says this. "You very well might see your father soon." 

"What would make you think that?" I ask. We had been convinced that Harry Potter was a lunatic all summer. "Don't tell me you're believing Dumbledore now. He's what, over a hundred years now or something?" 

"Ophelia," she says. "There are signs that can't be ignored now." 

I roll my eyes, but I still have that same sinking feeling. The one that I always get if she mentions anything to do with my father. 

"The dementors are revolting," Opal continues, "why do you think it's been so misty lately?" 

"I dunno," I say, "maybe because it's winter?" 

"Don't be stupid," she snaps. "Anyway, that's not what I had to discuss with you." 

I look at her expectantly. Growing up with Aunt Opal hadn't been easy -- she was strict, and hard to get along with, and I had always had a feeling that she had only taken me in because she had loved my mother so much. 

Apparently, she had been really close with my mother once. Before my mom had decided to run away with Antonin Dolohov. 

"I've decided to leave," Opal says, and her face looks resigned. "I'm going out of the country. I-- I can't bear to be around this again." 

"What?" I say. "What do you mean?" 

"I'll be leaving after you go back for winter term," she says. "I can't tell you where I'm going, it's not safe enough. Since you're of age now, I trust that you can find somewhere to stay." 

I stare at her, unable to find the words to reply to her. 

She seems to realize this, and her voice changes to something kinder. "What I mean is," she says, "you have a life now. You can make it on your own. I promised your mother, that if something ever happened... that I would take care of you. At least until you were of age." 

"So you're just going to run away?" I demand. "For something that you 'believe' is true." This was coming from the woman who was certain that the Ministry had been watching our every move since I was born. The woman who didn't let me go into town on my own because she was afraid that someone would curse us if I made the wrong decision. 

"I'm being proactive," Opal says, "and I would suggest that you do the same. Bring your grades up, and stop messing around at school. It'll just draw attention." 

"Why would you care?" I say, feeling the familiar prick behind my eyes that meant I'm about to cry. I needed to get away before I showed how scared I really was. "Seeing as how you'll be gone before I'm out of school." 

Opal looks as if she's about to say something, and then seems to think better of it. "You might want to go through your things," she says, instead. "See if there's anything you want to keep." 

"Fine," I say. 

That night in my room, I think about what Opal had said. I wish I could say I was focused on the You-Know-Who bit, but I was more focused on where I was going to go after school. I still had no idea what I wanted to do, besides not work for the Ministry. I suppose I'd better start looking in The Daily Prophet for available apartments.

I can't sleep, so I decide to start unpacking my trunk. Halfway through, something catches my eye -- the quill that Fred and George had given me. I hold it in my hands, somehow feeling better. 

I'll ask them about You-Know-Who when I get back to school, I decide. 

-:-

I spend my holidays about as well as I had expected. Opal and I don't talk much -- as usual. In fact, the most interaction that we have is on Christmas Day, when we exchange gifts. I give her a maroon scarf that Daphne had picked out months ago in Hogsmeade, and she gives me something in a small box -- a locket that had once belonged to my mom. 

"Oh," I say, surprised. "This is... really nice." The locket itself is tarnished silver, and the chain looks like it's about to break, but I put it on anyway. There's probably a spell I can use to clean it up... 

"She wore it when she was your age," Opal says, her eyes looking glassy, as they do whenever she talks about my mom. "I thought... you would like it." 

I would never take it off. "It's okay," I say, still annoyed with her decision. 

"She loved you." My aunt wipes her eyes. "So much that... well. I suppose I should be happy that you managed to turn out like this, with the father you had." 

I wish I could ask her to say those words about my mom again, nevermind the bit about my dad. Instead, I say, "Thank you. I suppose it was hard, taking care of me all of these years since I seem to remind you so much of him." I feel the bite of the words in my voice, wanting to get a reaction out of her. 

"Not as hard as I thought," Opal says. 

I ignore her as she walks out of my room, closing the door softly behind her. I don't want her to see the tears streaming down my face. 

-:-

When the holidays are over, I feel a little relieved when I'm able to get back on the train. I had spent most of my time either studying or looking around in the newspaper for any open housing that I could find. 

It didn't help that I had had a complete blow-up of a fight with my aunt before I had left. 

It had started when Opal had tried to say goodbye. 

"I suppose this is the last time we'll see each other for a while," she had said. "I trust that you've gotten everything that you need?" 

I had packed lightly, not bothering to bring anything other than my extra school books that I still wanted to keep, and a few clothes that I hadn't packed on my way to Hogwarts. Everything else could stay, I decided. I didn't want much of a reminder anyway. 

"Yes," I said, not meeting her eyes. "I expect you'll send me an owl when you get to wherever you're headed?" 

She nodded. "I can do that." 

We looked at each other then, clearly uncomfortable. 

"You'll do well in school this year," Opal said, "and you'll find yourself a respectable career. I have no doubt about that." 

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Maybe I'll end up getting expelled. I doubt you'll know about it, seeing as how you're leaving." 

"Ophelia!"

"You don't have to pretend," I said, feeling seventeen years of grief coming to the surface. It was like I was possessed, I couldn't stop myself. "I know you never cared about me. You only did this as a favor for my mom." 

"That's not fair." Her face was getting redder, and I could tell I was making her upset. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you." 

"Besides your busy social life?" I muttered. 

"More than you can comprehend," she hissed.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but that's a load of--" 

"You're more like your father than I thought," Opal interrupted. "And if you're not careful, he's going to find you--" 

"So what if he does find me!?" I shouted. "It can't be worse than having to live with you my entire life! God, it's like you have no emotions at all unless it comes to my mother, who you don't even speak about!" 

"You have no idea what you're saying!" Her voice rises, until she's shouting at the level that I am. "I hope one day that you understand, and that you stay far away from him if you're ever unfortunate enough to meet him again!" 

"I'm glad you're leaving," I said, vehemently. "Because now I don't have to see you again." 

I slammed the door of the cottage, and hailed the Knight Bus before she could catch me. I had no doubt that she would send me an owl eventually, telling me off. 

A girl shrieks nearby, snapping me out of my thoughts. I realize that I'm standing in front of an empty compartment, standing still. 

As much as I had thought telling off my aunt would have made me feel better, I only feel lonelier than ever. 

The Great Hall is back to normal when we arrive. I don't feel like eating much, so as soon as I'm finished, I head to the common room to go to bed. Surprisingly, I don't see Fred and George either. I hate to admit that I was looking for them.


	10. Chapter 10

It's like the teachers were trying to overload us with homework. In Potions the next day, Professor Snape assigns us a twelve-inch essay over uncommon poison antidotes. I can see Daphne, a few rows in front of me now, silently fretting. 

"I improved your quill," I say to Fred, who is sitting behind me. "Look, it gives smart answers now." I hand it over to him, beaming. It had been a project of mine over break. 

"Keep it," he says, avoiding my eyes. 

I look up at him, confused. "Don't you want to try it out?" 

He looks uncomfortable for a second. I know this look, but I'm determined to ignore it. 

"I heard about what happened to your dad," I continue. "I'm sorry. I hope he's okay." 

"Thanks," Fred replies. "He's fine." 

I look over at George, who is writing something down next to his twin. He doesn't even look up. 

"Um, okay. I'm glad." I feel my smile fading, as an awkward silence settles around us. I can see Montague leering at me from where he's sitting in the room, obviously enjoying the fact that I can't even keep a conversation with the Weasley twins. 

I glare at Montague, and turn around, the pit in my stomach growing. 

They don't speak to me for the rest of the day, and I'm not stupid enough to bother trying to talk to them again. 

-:-

The next morning, at breakfast, I see my father's face laughing up at me from the newspaper, along with the nine other Death Eaters that had just escaped from Azkaban. 

"I expect you'll be having a family reunion soon, Ophelia!" Pansy shouts from down the table, obviously gleeful about having something to rub in my face. 

I don't answer, still staring at his picture, which is grinning up at me. There's a maniacal look in his eyes -- which are the same as mine, I realize. 

"Isn't that your dad?" Olivia asks me, oblivious to the others who are now staring. I can see a few Hufflepuffs nearby staring at me and pointing, not even caring that I can see. 

"Yeah," I answer her, my mind racing. Was Opal right? How would they have escaped otherwise? "I... need to go." My head is spinning, and I feel like I'm about to be sick. 

Thankfully, I make it to the bathroom in time before I empty the contents of my stomach. Shaking, I sit on the bathroom floor, putting my head in my hands. It was true that I didn't have many memories of my father -- I had been young when he had been imprisoned -- but none of them were good. 

The door opens, and I hear footsteps. I try to ignore them, hoping that whoever walked into the bathroom goes away soon, but they don't budge. 

"Leah?" A voice asks, tentatively. It's Daphne. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm great," I reply. 

"I saw the paper..." she trails off. 

"And what?" I say, glaring at the floor. I still haven't gotten up. "You wanted to say that you hope I'm not angry enough to have you on my bad side now that my insane father is out of prison?" 

"No!" Daphne says. "I wanted to... make sure you were alright." 

I sigh, and stand up. When I open the stall door, I see my former friend standing in front of me, looking extremely uncomfortable. 

"I also wanted to say I'm sorry," she continues. "I didn't mean to tell Pansy that stuff about your mom, it just slipped out." 

I shake my head. "Honestly Daphne, I don't know why you're in here. Don't you have better things to do?" 

"I really am sorry!" She insists. "I was a terrible friend, and I understand if you don't ever forgive me. But I wanted to apologize anyway." 

"You've been telling that Umbridge woman about me," I accuse. "She's been sending letters to my aunt, who -- by the way -- seems to think that You-Know-Who is back." 

Daphne's face goes pale. "I just wanted to help you." 

"I think you've done enough," I say, coldly. 

Her eyes fill with tears. Almost instantly, I feel guilty. 

"I'm sorry too," I mutter. "I wasn't exactly being easy to get along with either." 

"Thank you," Daphne answers, wiping her eyes. "My parents said that they missed you at Christmas, by the way." 

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "That's a shame," I say, instead. 

"Are we okay?" Daphne asks, in a smaller voice. 

"We can be," I say. "Just... stop trying to help me, okay? And keep my personal life out of your conversations with Pansy." 

Daphne and I are on speaking terms after that, and I'm surprised when she sits down next to me during Charms. I think about telling her about my new predicament -- how I'm basically homeless after school ends now -- but think better about it. I still don't feel like I can trust her completely. 

-:-

Fred and George are oddly quiet in class. I'm sure Daphne notices it too, but she doesn't say anything, to my surprise. In fact, she just seems glad that we're speaking again. 

Ever since I had left the bathroom, I've felt other students staring at me. I can hear their whispers as I'm walking past them -- some are terrified that I'm going to do some kind of dark magic, and others are just scathing. I find myself wishing that I was better at invisibility charms. 

The constant whispering doesn't help my foul mood, and comes to a head when a Ravenclaw boy a year younger than me seems to think it's okay to say something to me directly. 

"I don't see why they let anyone in here," he says to his friends, loud enough that I know he means for me to hear him. "Seeing as how we don't know what she's up to, given recent events." 

"Ignore him," Daphne says, grabbing my arm to steer me away from the Ravenclaws, who are now openly staring. 

"You'd better watch out," his friend agrees. "She might curse you on the spot. You don't know what she learned from her Death Eater father." 

My wand is out before they can say anything else. "Say anything else," I threaten, "and I'll hex you so bad that you'll be in the Hospital Wing for the week." 

Unfortunately, Professor Sinistra is passing by as I'm saying this, and gives me detention. Even worse, I can see Fred and George watching me from the other end of the corridor before they walk away. 

I'm surprised when I see Fred at detention too. I'm already halfway through polishing one of the many telescopes used for Astronomy, and hardly notice when he comes into the room.

"I suppose the school is going to look a lot cleaner if we keep getting detention," I tell him. 

Fred doesn't answer. 

The pit in my stomach, which had lessened slightly when Daphne and I had reconciled, seems to grow back to it's usual size. 

"What are you in here for, anyway?" I ask, continuing, even though something feels off. 

"Don't worry about it," Fred replies, starting on his first telescope. 

There's silence again, as I try to come up with a response. "Well you know why I'm in here," I say. "I saw you and George looking at me when I was about to hex that Ravenclaw." 

He only shrugs. 

The silence feels deafening. I move back to my telescope. A few minutes pass by, and I can't handle it anymore. 

"You're not speaking to me because of my dad, right?" I accuse. "Or are you afraid of me now?"

Fred looks up, looking a little startled for a second. I seem to have interrupted whatever he was thinking. "This was a mistake," he says. 

"What?" I demand. "The least you can do is explain yourself before you start ignoring me."

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Fred says. "That we're friends, or something." 

I think back to the words I had used to explain my behavior to my aunt. I was just pulling some pranks with a few... friends from school. 

"I..." I trail off, wondering how I can recover from this conversation. This was a mistake. "Why would you think that?" 

He continues, as if he didn't hear the last thing I said. "We're not sure where your loyalties lie, in all honesty." 

"So you regret getting yourself caught up with a nasty Slytherin," I snap. "I guess it doesn't fit with your 'business image'. Worried that I'm going to turn bad, are you?" 

He doesn't respond. I feel myself saying the most awful thing that I can think of. "Don't want to end up like your dad, Weasley? Are you that much of a coward?" 

"Don't talk about my dad," Fred warns. 

I laugh, a biting sound that feels all wrong. "Well, I suppose you're not wrong. You never know with someone like me. Don't want to risk it, I guess. Never mind that you're the ones who started bothering me." 

"It was a mistake," he says, his words equally as cold. 

"I see." The lump in my stomach seems to move to my throat. It's hard to get words out now, but I press on, wanting the last word. "Then I guess this is it. Don't worry, I won't curse you because you don't want to speak to me anymore. You're not even worth that." 

We finish up the telescopes in silence. I'm glad that Fred doesn't say anything else, because I probably would have cried. I couldn't show weakness. 

I let him leave before me, so I don't have to acknowledge what just happened. 

The next week is painful. It turns out that Fred and George's absence feels worse than their pranks.


	11. Chapter 11

"What did you put for this question?" Daphne asks me. We're in the common room, trying to make our way through this awful review that Flitwick had given us the day before. 

I know she's just asking to be nice -- she knows all of the answers. "Cheering charm," I reply, "but you already put that, didn't you?" I point to her response on her parchment, written neatly in her handwriting. 

"It's good to make sure," she insists. 

Daphne has been acting nicer than usual since we became friends again. I guess she really did miss me. I'm glad for her company, with everything going on. 

Ever since the article about the Death Eater's escape came out, I've been more noticed than ever before, and not in a good way. I can hardly walk through the corridors without having some sort of snide remark hissed at me, or being treated like an absolute pariah. 

I wonder how many relatives of my father's victims go to school with me. 

After my conversation with Fred, I haven't felt like lashing out at anyone. If anything, I feel numb, as if all of my emotions have been locked tight in a box inside of me. 

I'm sure Daphne has noticed how I've changed, but she doesn't say anything about it. 

"We're almost done," Daphne says, studying her answers. "Now, if you're up for it, we can knock out that essay over moonstone for Potions and we'll have caught up on everything for the week so far." 

"Sounds good to me," I smile, but it feels forced. 

We spend the rest of the afternoon before Transfiguration finishing up the essay. I have to admit that my grades have improved. 

In class, I spot the twins in the back of the room, laughing at something that Lee Jordan has said. I'm back in my usual spot beside Daphne, close to the front of the class. 

Professor McGonagall is standing at the front of the room, frowning. She looks like she's about to say something to me, but before she can, Professor Umbridge walks into the room. McGonagall looks away then, focused on Umbridge. There had been a new decree from the High Inquisitor, saying that teachers were only allowed to speak to students about lessons and nothing else. 

I wonder what she was about to say to me. 

"I thought you were coming tomorrow, Dolores," Professor McGonagall says. 

"The date has changed," Umbridge gives Professor McGonagall a smile that looks rather patronizing. "Unless you're not prepared...?" 

McGonagall's mouth grows thin -- a sign that she's losing patience. "Not at all." 

The lesson goes smoothly, of course, but it's even more difficult to focus on facial transfiguration with the High Inquisitor in the room. 

"Oh, let me fix it for you." Daphne says, when I manage to change the color of my skin to a sickly orange. She taps me with her wand, and it goes to normal. "Are you distracted today?" 

Before I can respond, Umbridge has walked over to where we're sitting, her quill and clipboard in hand. "I'd like to ask you a few questions," she says, still smiling. 

"Oh, hello Professor," Daphne replies brightly. "We'd love to." 

I hold back a glare that's meant for my friend. The last thing I'd like to do is talk to Umbridge, but it's unavoidable. 

"Wonderful," Professor Umbridge says. "How prepared do you feel for your Transfiguration NEWTs?" 

"Very prepared," Daphne replies, going into a detailed description of everything we've learned so far. 

I notice that the whispering from the back of the room has gone quiet. I don't even have to look behind me to know that Fred and George are listening to our conversation. 

"And would you say that the lessons are relevant and adhere to Ministry standards?" Umbridge asks, writing something down. 

"I'm not sure what you mean," I say. "Everything we've learned is relevant to Transfiguration." 

Umbridge peers up at me -- she's a lot shorter -- and writes something else. 

"She's right, Professor," Daphne says. "Although, I can't say that I'm familiar with the new standards set by the Ministry." 

"Would you say that you feel comfortable in this class?" Umbridge says. "Given the certain... ah... demeanor of your professor?" 

It dawns on me what she's trying to do then. I feel the anger bubbling up before I can stop it. I had always had a hot temper, no matter how much I tried to pretend otherwise. 

"Incredibly comfortable," I snap, cutting off whatever Daphne was about to say. I give my friend an apologetic look before I continue. "Professor McGonagall is probably the best teacher in this school."

"Are you sure you don't feel... pushed to say these things, Miss Dolohov?" Umbridge continues, still smiling. 

I want to wipe the smile off of her face. "Whatever do you mean, Professor?" I say, taking on the same tone as her. "I believe I made myself clear." 

The smile leaves her face. Despite myself, I feel a rush of triumph. She's not going to make McGonagall look bad, at least not through me. 

Someone tries to hide a laugh behind us, and I see Umbridge glare at them. She asks a few more questions, and I let Daphne answer them. 

Professor McGonagall is still walking around the room, but I can swear I see her smile for a second. 

That evening, I receive mail. 

"Who is that from?" Daphne asks, curiously. 

"Aunt Opal, probably." I open the note that's tied to the owl's leg -- the only owl that came down this evening. 

Ophelia, 

I wanted to apologize for what I said before you left, it wasn't fair to you. I hope you know that I've always cared about you. Please remember what I said, and keep yourself safe, especially after everything that's happened in the news lately. 

I expect I won't see you for a long time, but I hope that we can talk again one day. 

Love, 

Aunt Opal 

"I can't believe it," I say. "She actually apologized." 

"Well, that's a good sign," Daphne says. "I'm glad, she shouldn't have said what she did." 

"Who?" Olivia sits down next to us. 

"Don't worry about it," I tell her. "What's going on with you?" 

"Oh," Olivia beams. "I've just gotten out of a meeting with Professor Umbridge. She said..." 

I listen to Olivia, who goes into a drawn-out story about how Umbridge had said that she'd make a fine Ministry employee one day. Seriously, is that all she had to talk about? 

"I guess being High Inquisitor means that she can still talk about whatever she wants to the students," I say, after Olivia is finished. 

"Of course it does," Daphne says. "Besides, what else do we have to talk to the teachers about anyway?" 

I would have liked to talk to Professor McGonagall about a few things, I think, but don't answer. 

-:-

The week passes by without much fanfare, until one morning, when something catches my eye when I'm skimming the paper, trying to look discreetly for open apartments. 

"BODY FOUND IN LONDON," the words scream up at me. Beside the article, is a picture of Opal, gazing sternly up at me. 

I don't realize that my hands are shaking, until the words start to become illegible. 

"Leah," Daphne says. "Are you okay?" 

Pansy, who was sitting next to her, stares at me, a sneer beginning to form on her lips as if she's about to say something nasty. She seems to think better of it though, and turns to Olivia. 

I hand the article over to Daphne, who reads it, her face becoming pale. 

It's like my mind has gone completely blank. As if summoned, Professor Snape appears at the table, telling me to follow him. 

I'm led out of the hall by him, and down the stairs to the dungeons where his office is located. 

"We have a letter for you from the Ministry," Snape says, looking uncomfortable. He hands me an envelope, with an official-looking wax stamp. 

"Is this about my aunt?" My voice comes out in a whisper. I take the envelope from him, still shaking. 

He nods. "It's regrettable that you had to find out through the paper. We were going to pull you out sooner, but Professor Dumbledore had to stop an Auror from coming in to question you." 

"They wanted to question me?" I say, blankly. "But why?" 

"They seem to think that you would want to know about the... circumstances about her death," Snape says slowly. 

"Why?" I ask again, getting impatient. 

"It was a killing curse. Presumably left by--" 

"My father." I shudder. "But why... did they think I have something to do with it?" 

"I don't know," he replies, "but you're not to be questioned while you're in here. Dumbledore doesn't think it's necessary, with you having just lost a relative. I'm sorry." He looks like he wants to say more, but seems to think better of it. I guess Umbridge's new restriction applies to comforting grieving students. 

In that moment, I hate her so much that I want to scream.

"Can I go now?" I ask. 

He nods, and I leave his office, sprinting down the corridor down to the Slytherin common room. There's no way that I'll be able to make it to classes today, I realize. 

Once I'm in the dormitory, I can't hold in my sobs. Opal hadn't been the best family, but she had been mine, and now I was alone. 

Well, not completely, a small voice says in my head. But that's not much consolation, if the only person I have left in the world is a deranged father. 

The letter from the Ministry lays forgotten on the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

The weekend passes by in a blur, and so does the next week. Somehow, I manage to make it out of bed on Monday, feeling too annoyed by the other girls to stay there. 

Daphne, who has been smuggling in food for me from the Great Hall, seems cheered by this, but mostly leaves me alone. 

I manage to catch up with most of my classwork over the weekend, thanks to her. She barely leaves my side, which I'm grateful for. 

"How are you feeling?" Daphne pushes some bacon and eggs in my direction, which I pick at. "Are... are you up to going to Charms today?" 

I shrug. "It beats staying in the dormitory, I guess." 

"That's the spirit," she encourages. Daphne hadn't bugged me to talk about what had happened with Opal, even though I knew she had wanted to on several occasions. She knew we hadn't been on great terms before... 

I couldn't finish the thought. 

Mostly, when I wasn't trying to ignore it, I wondered what Opal had been doing in London in the first place. Wasn't she supposed to be out of the country by now? Had my father followed her? How had he found her in the first place? 

Somehow, I felt like it was my fault. 

Unfortunately, the news of my aunts' death only seemed to draw more attention to me, none of it good. 

It escalated that evening, when I was on my way back from the library -- finishing up an essay that I would have to turn in late to Professor Flitwick. A Hufflepuff student, Zacharias Smith, saw me in the corridor while he was walking by with a few friends. 

"Honestly," he says loudly, "it's like they let anyone in here. I'm not looking to get attacked in the castle by a Death Eater. Well, I suppose those extra lessons will do us some good after all." 

There are a few snickers from his friends. 

"Well, I guess it won't be long until she's kicked out," he continues, "seeing as how the Ministry seems to be cracking down on the school. Wouldn't want anyone to be--" 

"Do you want to be first, then?" I demand, pulling out my wand. I feel the Charms book that I was holding fall to the floor with a loud clatter. "Or would you like to wait until you're more protected?" 

He looks at me, a smirk on his face. "Oh, I don't think you'd be that stupid. I imagine you're one hex away from being expelled at this point." 

"Why don't we test it out?" I say, feeling rash. "Seeing as how you obviously want me to do something." At this point, cursing him would be worth it. 

He pulls out his own wand, scowling. 

I'm just about to send a hex his way, when someone pulls me away. I look up to see Fred, glaring at Zacharias, and holding me in a way that I can't use my wand if I wanted to. 

"Let me go!" I shout. "He asked for it!" 

"You'd better leave, I can't say you wouldn't deserve it," Fred tells Zacharias, who doesn't need a warning. He's already disappearing down the hallway. Coward.

"Fred," I try to pull my arm away, but he begins pulling me away, in the other direction. His grip doesn't hurt, but it's firm. "Let me go." 

"No," he says, simply, continuing to walk me in the direction of the library. "Not until you calm down." 

"Why do you care!?" I squirm a bit, but he won't budge. "Everyone thinks I'm evil anyway. Just let me hurt him!" 

“Look,” Fred says, “I’m all for hexing him when you’re in the right state of mind.” He lets me go, seeming to decide that I won’t go running after Zacharias now. “But now might not be the best time. For one thing, we really shouldn’t be out this late.

“Why do you care?” I snap. “Seeing as I’m evil already.”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Fred says. “I don’t think you’re going to… turn bad or anything.”

“Apology not accepted.” I turn away from him, trying to get my composure back. “You can’t just take back what you said. It’s not fair.”

“Why not?” He demands. “D’you want more proof? I promise that I don’t think you’re going to turn into your father.”

My hand goes up, maybe to slap him, maybe to do something else, but he catches it before either of us figure out what I meant. For a second, I think he’s going to push me away, but instead he pulls me towards him in an embrace. 

"Come on, don't waste a spell on that git. There are better ways to get expelled." He pulls me tighter, as if afraid that I'm going to make an attempt to run again. I hate to admit it, but I do feel comforted. 

Tears start to form in my eyes. I wipe them on the front of his robes, in a way that I hope is discreet enough to keep him from noticing. "I dunno, it seems worth it right now." 

"There are better ways to get back at him," Fred insists. 

I breathe shakily, trying to collect myself. "Maybe I am turning into my father. I feel like I'm going mad." 

"I know you're not," he answers. "Are you crying?" 

"No!" I say, feeling another tear escape. "Now, get off of me!"

He releases me as soon as I say those words, and I regret it immediately. I wipe my eyes. "Honestly Fred, why do you care?"

"I told you," Fred says, "I'm sorry for what I said in detention. That wasn't fair to you. And, I'm sorry about what happened to your aunt." 

"That's nice to hear," I say, in what I hope is a scathing way. The tears sort of ruin my glare, though. 

He holds his arms out again, and I step into them, not bothering to pretend that I don't want comfort from him. This time, Fred's hand finds my face, and lifts my face up to look at him again.

"Is this okay?" He asks, quietly.

I nod, suddenly losing my ability to breathe. Fred kisses me, and the moment our lips touch, it’s like I lose control. Forgetting about my anger, I wrap my arms around his neck, and pull him closer. He makes a surprised sound, and then pushes me against the wall, pressing his body on mine.

It's like everything leaves my mind in that moment. Zacharius, my father, and the odd mixture of guilt and grief over Aunt Opal, are all pushed out of my mind.

We stay like that for longer than I'd like to admit, until, breathing heavily, I push him away. 

"That can't happen again," I warn.

He looks back at me, a small grin forming on his face. "Why not?"

"I can't," I say, and then leave him there. I'm sure it's past curfew already, and I'm not looking to get stuck in detention with him while I work out everything that's now racing through my head. 

-:-

"Um, Leah..." Daphne says, the next day. "Are you alright?" 

"Obviously not," I snap, and then regret it immediately. "Sorry. Why do you ask?" 

"You seem different," she replies, ignoring my foul mood. "Did the Weasley twins do something to you again? I thought they were leaving you alone." 

"You would think," I say darkly. 

As if he knew I was talking about him, Fred catches my eye at the Gryffindor table and smiles. I glower at him and turn away. 

"So they did do something!" Daphne accuses. "That's it, I'm telling a teacher--" 

"Don't you dare!" I protest. God, how embarrassing would that be? Then I would have to admit that I had been snogging Fred Weasley for a good half hour last night when I was supposed to be studying. 

I guess the look on my face was severe enough, because Daphne changes the subject. "Anyway," she says airily, "d'you think you'll be up for going to Hogsmeade on the next weekend?" 

I'm still feeling on edge when we get to Defense Against the Dark Arts later that day. It doesn't help that Umbridge is on a warpath. 

"I don't suppose you have any notes on the chapter for today?" She examines Fred and George's notes, which I know are completely blank. They had been in the back of the room whispering about Skiving Snackboxes, and trying to sell some to an unsuspecting Ravenclaw student. 

I can't hear what Fred says back to her, but George laughs, and I see Umbridge's face turn pink with fury. 

"Absolute rubbish," she declares. “I don’t suppose I can expect very much from you. I’m sure your parents would be disappointed, if they didn’t have--”

“Maybe,” I interrupt, “they would be more ‘engaged’ if our teacher was actually competent enough to teach her own subject.”

The room goes deadly quiet. Umbridge turns away from the twins, her eyes focused on me now. “Detention, Miss Dolohov,” she says quietly. “For your disruption.”

“Good,” I say. “Maybe we can talk about how boring this class is, then. I’ve done all the work and I still haven’t learned anything!”

“Calm down,” Umbridge warns, “or I shall have to give you detention for the week.”

I stop talking, but I’m glowering at her. I didn’t know what she was about to say about the Weasley family, but I was sure it wasn’t good. I avoid Fred and George's eyes as I turn back around. 

"What has gotten into you?" Daphne hisses. She had watched my outburst, her face growing paler with every word I had said. 

"She's an awful woman," I whisper back. "Someone needed to tell her off." 

I can tell Daphne isn't pleased with me, but at least we're still on speaking terms. 

-:-

I leave detention that night, my hand bleeding. Umbridge had me writing "I will not disrupt class" over and over until she was satisfied. Thankfully, there were no more talks about how much of a "promising candidate" I would make for the Ministry this time. I guess getting detention sort of ruined that for me. 

To my surprise, Fred is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, as I'm making my way back to the common room. My hand stings, and I'm in an even worse mood. 

"What do you want?" I complain, when I see him. 

"Come here," he says, holding out what looks like a vial of some sort of yellow-ish looking liquid. "I have something for your hand." 

"I don't want it," I lie. My hand throbs. 

Fred only looks at me expectantly. "Come off it," he says, "let me help you." 

He pours the liquid into a small bowl that he procures from his pocket, and I allow him to guide my hand into it. The pain in my hand stops at once. 

“Thanks,” I say. “What is this?”

“Essence of Murtlap,” Fred says. “Lee put us onto it. I won’t tell you why, though.”

I look at him curiously. “Don’t tell me,” I tease, “you ended up hurting yourself making those stupid snackboxes.”

“Something like that.” He grins, and I realize how close he is. We’re sitting so close on the stairs that we’re touching. “But I do remember you saying that they were brilliant once.”

I had, once when we had been talking about other additions to the Skiving Snackboxes, but I don’t acknowledge it. “What are you doing out so late, anyway?”

“Waiting for you of course,” Fred answers, still grinning. “You didn’t have to call Umbridge out in class like that.”

I roll my eyes. “She shouldn’t be saying things like that. Besides, it’s true. I can’t stand her class… or her.”

“You’re always surprising me,” Fred says.

“Really?” I’m gazing at my hand, still immersed in the Essence of Murtlap. It’s not throbbing at all anymore. I’m oddly touched by his gesture. “How so?”

“Well,” he continues, “I would have thought that you would have snitched on us at some point, when we were first pranking you.”

“I’m no sneak,” I insist.

“I know,” Fred replies. “And then, you actually seemed interested in what George and I were making. Not to mention, you told off Umbridge when I thought you didn’t want anything else to do with us.”

“That’s not--” I start to say, and then cut myself off. “You aren’t just saying this so you can kiss me again, are you?”

“Maybe I am,” Fred answers, casually. “But it’s true all the same.”

I touch his arm with my free hand. “Thank you,” I answer. “And I don’t want nothing to do with you.”

He reaches up and touches my cheek. “At least you’re not crying this time.”

“Shut up,” I say.

Fred kisses me again, and I don’t bother to pretend that I don’t want this. I kiss him back, feeling just as reckless as I had the night before.

“Oi!” A voice breaks us apart, and I see George grinning from the bottom of the stairs. “Stop snogging and go to bed. It’s late.”

I blush, but Fred seems unbothered. “I was wondering where you were,” he tells his twin.

“Obviously you weren’t.” George laughs. I resist the urge to hit him. “So, Leah, are you going to start talking to us again? We have some more products that I think you’d like to see.”

“You were the ones who weren’t talking to me!”

“Let’s not get wrapped up in the details,” Fred waves my comment off. “So, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “I’d like that.”

Fred squeezes my hand before he leaves with George. “Goodnight, Leah.” It’s the first time that he’s called me by my name.

“Goodnight, Fred.”


	13. Chapter 13

"Wow," Fred says, writing with the blue quill that I had enchanted. "This is even better than we had in mind."

"I know," I say. "It gives you smart answers, I told you."

"When did you get so good at charms?" He accuses.

"Since we started school," George says. "Here Lee, try it out."

It's Saturday, and I'm sitting outside with them. The weather is warmer, but it looks like it might rain soon -- still, I'm enjoying the time in the sun for now. Strangely, Lee Jordan wasn't phased when Fred and George told him I'd be joining them today.

"Wicked," Lee says. I can't make out what he's writing. Maybe I could make a quill to improve someone's handwriting, I think offhandedly. "D'you mind if I use this on my Defense Against the Dark Arts paper?"

"Go for it," I say.

I open up my Transfiguration textbook, and begin to write my own essay on animagi, listening half-heartedly to what Fred and George are discussing. Something about how they're going to have to find a better way to mass-produce their Skiving Snackboxes because they're almost sold out. 

I'm so engrossed in my work, that I barely hear Pansy's voice call out to me. "Hey Ophelia, have you gone blind? Or do I see you sitting with a bunch of blood traitors?"

I look up, and see that she's not with her usual girl group today. Instead, she's walking with Draco Malfoy and a few of his friends. 

"I'd say I'm better off with this lot," I say. "Seeing as how they actually want me around." 

Fred and George laugh, and Pansy's face turns a delicate shade of pink. "I'd be careful if I were you," she warns, "hanging around with them. You might be getting expelled sooner than we think." 

"Maybe," I agree, and then turn back to my essay. I can hear her talking loudly about me as they walk to a spot closer to the lake. 

"Aren't you friends?" Fred asks. 

"Couldn't you tell?" I smile. 

"Well, you do seem to be around them a lot," he answers. 

"It's because of Daphne," I say. 

Daphne hadn't been pleased that I was friendly with Fred and George again, but to my surprise, she hadn't said more than "be careful" when I admitted that it was true. I couldn't imagine what she would say if she found out that I had been kissing Fred though. 

"Ah, Greengrass," Lee replies. "She's never been much of a fan of us." 

"True," I agree. "But at least she's not as angry at me as she was before." Even though she had refused to even bother coming with me. 

We sit like that for a while, until it starts to rain -- slowly at first, and then in earnest. I find myself clutching my papers to my chest, trying to keep them dry as we run back into the building. 

"I'd better go," I say, once we're in the main hallway. "I need to see if I can salvage this essay or if I'm going to have to copy it down on another piece of parchment." 

"Before you go," Fred says, "you're going to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?" 

"I dunno," I shrug. "Depends on the reason why." 

"Will you go with me?" He asks. 

"Yeah, that sounds good," I say. "You'll help me find something good to prank Zacharias, right?" I had been thinking of a few things, but they didn't seem good enough. 

He agrees, and we go our separate ways then. I suddenly realize that he was probably asking me to go as his date. On Valentine's Day, no less. 

When I tell Daphne about this later, she looks appalled. "And you said yes?" 

"Well," I say. "I didn't realize it was like that at first." 

"I hope you clear things up with him as soon as possible," she says. Daphne still hadn't warmed up to the idea that I was actually friendly with the Weasley twins now. The fact that I had been asked out by Fred Weasley seemed to bother her immensely. 

I shrug. "I dunno, maybe I will go with him. As a date, I mean. Why not?" 

She doesn't reply at first, but I can see that she's deep in thought -- probably wondering if it's worth it to discourage me, or not. "Well for one thing," Daphne says, "how do you know it's not some elaborate prank?" 

If I hadn't been positive that it wasn't, I might have been offended. "I'm sure that it's not," I tell her earnestly. After all, I still hadn't told her that we had already kissed more than once -- the last time being last night, after Fred had caught me studying in the library again.

"Well, I suppose I can't talk you out of it," Daphne replies, "but I do wish you'd be careful about who you spend time around." 

"I don't think Fred and George are worse for my reputation at this point," I disagree. "Afterall, everyone seems to think I'm going to go mad anyway." 

"Not necessarily," Daphne says, but doesn't offer much more than that. 

-:-

On Saturday, I find myself having a few doubts. Maybe Fred was just inviting me to go along with him, George, and Lee, and I was overthinking things like I did sometimes. Maybe it was just an elaborate prank. 

Those thoughts disappear when I see Fred waiting for me outside. "Are you ready?" He asks. 

I touch my purse, making sure that I had remembered to bring it. "Yes." I smile. "Shall we go now?" 

The walk into Hogsmeade is pleasant. Fred tells me about a few more ideas that he had the night before with George, and I give him my opinions on them. The weather outside is cold, but not unbearable, and I'm actually enjoying myself.

Nevermind the fact that I see the students around us giving me questioning looks every now and then. Probably wondering what Fred is doing hanging around someone who is practically confirmed evil. Honestly, they were probably wondering where George was, too. 

"Where is George?" I say out loud. 

"Are you really going to ask where George is on our first date together?" Fred demands, but I can tell he's joking. 

I shrug. "Maybe you're just too boring." 

"We both know I'm the more interesting twin," Fred replies, grinning now, and then he answers my question. "George is at the Three Broomsticks with Lee. I was thinking we could meet them after a while." 

"Sounds good to me," I answer. "Where to first?" 

"Zonko's," Fred says. "And then the Shrieking Shack?" 

Smiling, we walk together in that direction. A few meters away, I can see Daphne walking with Pansy and her friends. For a second, I think about ducking out of the way, but then decide that not even Pansy can ruin my day. 

They don't see me, and I watch them walk into the Three Broomsticks. 

"Greengrass didn't seem happy," Fred observes, when I don't say anything. 

"She's never been happy about my choices," I admit, "but I don't care. We're still friends, anyway." 

"Why?" Fred asks. "I mean, you seemed to have a pretty big falling out?" 

"Noticed that, did you?" I smile. "She wasn't too happy about me pranking you back all those times. And, well, I was pretty mad that she told Umbridge that she was worried about my 'future'. Umbridge kept telling me that she was sure that I was a good fit to the ministry or some rubbish after that." 

"Disgusting," Fred agrees. "I don't suppose that offer is still on the table after you got detention?" 

"Not at all," I say happily. "In fact, she's left me alone since then. So, are you planning on starting up a legitimate shop after school?" 

"Just found a building that suits our needs in Diagon Alley yesterday," Fred grins. "Why, are you looking for a job?" 

I pause for a second. The twins hadn't talked to me about working with them before. I wonder if he's serious. "Maybe," I say, instead. "Depends on whether or not I can find something a bit more pureblood." 

He laughs, and I smile back. I'd be stupid not to admit that this is the happiest I've felt in a while. 

We make our way into Zonko's, and Fred points out a few things to me that I might be interested in purchasing. "This would work well on Zacharias," he tells me, pointing to something brightly packaged that guarantees that the victim's toenails won't stop growing until they're at least a meter long. 

"Hmmm," I consider it. "I don't know. D'you think he would be getting off a little too easy?" 

"Good point," Fred agrees. "We'll keep looking." 

Montague approaches me when I'm looking at a display marked "Filibuster Fireworks". I'm so deep in thought that I don't notice him, until he says, "Enjoying yourself, Dolohov?" 

I look up at his sneering face. "What do you want?" I ask, looking back at the products. 

"I see who you're with," he leers. "Do you really think that someone would be interested in you, after everything that's been going on?" 

"Honestly Montague," I answer, still not meeting his eyes. I pick up a small package that looks promising. "You seem to care so much about my personal life that I'm beginning to wonder if you're jealous." 

"You'd better watch out," he threatens. "If you know what's good for you." 

"Oh, bugger off," I say. 

The package is slapped out of my hands by Montague, who is glowering at me. I blink up at him, surprised. He looks like he's about to grab my arm, when he's pulled away by Fred. 

"Leah," he says, "I didn't realize you were planning on meeting up with another bloke today." 

"I wasn't." I pull out my wand, and return the box neatly to the shelf. "Well, not for a few hours, anyway. Montague seems to have it in his head that I actually want to talk, though." 

Montague, seething now, moves to push Fred away, but I'm quicker. I flick my wand, and he hits the display with a crash. I laugh as a few boxes hit Montague in the head. 

We're asked to leave after that by a disgruntled Zonko's employee. I apologize to them quickly, and then Fred and I leave the store, laughing. 

"What did he want?" Fred asks, once we're far enough away. I can see Montague leaving the store, rubbing his head and still scowling. 

I roll my eyes. "He wanted to warn me about the people I'm spending time with. He's probably just upset that I've never wasted any time on him." 

"That was a good spell," Fred approves. He takes my hand, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. 

I squeeze his hand, which feels warm and slightly calloused. "Thanks," I answer. "Honestly, you'd think he would have learned not to talk to me by now." I remember the spell I had used on him in our third year -- the first time I had attempted the Bat Bogey hex. It hadn't gone as planned, but produced a good enough result. "Besides," I continue, "there wasn't much in there that I was interested in anyway." 

We make our way to the Shrieking Shack, and I ask Fred about his family. He tells me about his older brothers -- Bill, Charlie, and Percy. "Percy, the git, has stopped talking to anyone in the family. Seems to think that Dad's a nutter because he believes everything that Dumbledore says." 

"And do you?" I ask. 

"Of course," Fred replies. "Don't you?" 

I shrug, feeling a little awkward. "To be honest, I didn't. But my aunt, before she... you know... seemed to think that You-Know-Who is back, too." To tell the truth, I hadn't thought much about it since my father had escaped. 

"Been listening to the Prophet, then?" He says. 

"I guess so," I agree. "Now I'm not sure what to believe. I was actually going to ask you and George about it, after break, but I forgot." 

There's an awkward pause, and Fred seems to be thinking of what to say. 

"It's hard not to believe," I say, before he can respond. "Now that my father is out of Azkaban, at least." 

We make it to the Shrieking Shack, and I can see it from where we're standing. No one else is around, thankfully, since it's so cold. Fred looks like he wants to ask something, and then seems to think better of it. 

"You'll figure it out," he says, finally, and then pulls me closer. "It's freezing outside." 

I nod, leaning against him, still looking at the Shrieking Shack. We're close to my favorite spot, the place I liked to sit with Daphne on warmer days. "Maybe we should go back soon." 

"I dunno," Fred replies. "There are other things that we can do, y'know, to stay warm." 

"Obviously that's the only reason," I agree, rolling my eyes. "I should have known that you only agreed to take me here to snog me." 

"Why is that a bad thing?" He demands, but he's still smiling. 

I turn, so I'm facing him now. "Who said it was a bad thing?" I stand on my toes, and kiss him on the cheek. "There, now we can go inside." I'm grinning now, unable to look annoyed. 

Fred pulls me closer again, and kisses me. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. If I had any doubts at the beginning of the day, they were gone now. 

In fact, it's hard to think at all when he's kissing me like this. Fred's hand is in my hair, and his other arm is still wrapped around me. I had only kissed another boy before him -- a Durmstrang student that had asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him the year before, and mostly because I was curious. It hadn't been anything like this. 

I don't realize that I'm shivering, until Fred pulls away. "We'd better go inside now," he says, studying my face. "You're getting paler, if that's possible." 

"Oh shut up," I grin.

He kisses me again, then pulls off his jacket and offers it to me. I put it on quickly, pulling it tight around me, and then take his hand again as we start walking to the Three Broomsticks to meet George and Lee.


	14. Chapter 14

"Look at this," George holds up a vial of some white, thick-looking liquid. The twins had found me in the hallway before class, grinning widely. 

I take it from him, studying it for a second. "It looks like undiluted bubotuber pus." 

"That's because it is," Fred says. 

"And why do you need that?" I say. I hand the vial back over to George, who's grinning. 

"Just trying something out," Fred answers. "It has restorative properties if used correctly. We're thinking about opening up a line of products specifically for witches. Pimple zapping and stuff." 

"Not bad," I concede. "As long as you're really careful with the pus." I eye it warily. Olivia had tried to clear her face up with it once in Herbology, while Professor Sprout was warning us about it. She had broken out in boils as soon as it had touched her face. 

"Would you like to be our tester?" George offers. "Once we've figured it out?" 

"No thank you," I say. "I think I've tested plenty already." This morning, in particular, when Fred had handed me a nosebleed nougat. I had eaten it, without thinking. 

Thankfully, they had already figured out the antidote, and I had managed to vanish the blood that had leaked onto my robes. 

"You're not still mad about that, are you?" Fred grins. "I told you, I wouldn't have given it to you if you hadn't seemed like you were about to fall asleep in Umbridge's class." 

Umbridge, unable to find a reason for why I had begun to bleed so profusely, had sent me to the hospital wing. Fred had handed me the other, purple end on my way out of the classroom. 

"I guess not," I say, "but next time, can you just hit me with one of those paper airplanes that you made instead?" 

"If you insist," Fred grins. 

"Anyway, I'm sure I didn't miss anything in class." I can see Daphne approaching me, looking worried. 

"Leah, are you okay?" She asks. Then, as if realizing who I'm with, she scowls. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I tell her. "Fred gave me a nosebleed nougat." 

"A what?" Daphne looks perplexed. "He did that to you?" 

"We'll see you later." Fred says. "Alright, Greengrass?" 

She ignores him, glaring as they walk away. 

"It was harmless," I protest, as she turns her glare on me. "Okay, I was a little mad at first, but I'm okay now. It's one of the candies from their snackboxes." 

"I don't know what to say," Daphne says. "Is it true that you jinxed Montague again?" 

"At Hogsmeade?" I say. "No, I just made him run into a fireworks display." 

"That's not what I heard," she says, eyeing me warily. 

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing, Daph," I reply. "He's a creep. You know that." 

She shrugs, unable to refute that bit of information. "I just wish..." She trails off. "I hope you're being careful." 

"Listen," I assure her. "My grades are back up now. I'm doing okay, I promise." 

We make our way to Ancient Runes -- a class that I had ended up taking with her to avoid Divination in our third year, but ended up enjoying -- and she turns the conversation to something else. 

"Are you dating him, then?" Daphne says, but it sounds more like an accusation. "Fred Weasley, I mean." 

"And what if I am?" 

"Do you think that's the wisest choice right now?" Daphne persists. "It's not exactly something that will keep you under the radar, if that's what you're still hoping to do." 

"He's not what I thought he was," I answer. "Neither of the twins are. They're my friends. Anyway, I don't want to fight about this. I want to be your friend, too." 

She seems mollified by this, and doesn't bring it up again. 

-:-

The week passes by quickly, and on Saturday I find myself walking up to the Quidditch Pitch with Fred and George, who had insisted that I sit with them. Lee would have been joining us, but he's already in the stands, getting ready to announce for the game. 

"I'm still not supporting Gryffindor," I say, stubbornly, even though it's a match against Hufflepuff. 

"I'm not sure if I am either," Fred agrees. "Seeing how lousy Ron's been practicing lately." I know he's not being serious, at least about not supporting Gryffindor. All of the Weasleys, I learned, were really into Quidditch. 

"It would be more entertaining if I could see you play," I say. "Maybe you'd fall off of your broom." 

"If you don't stop flirting, we'll sit somewhere else," George warns. 

"Your sister's playing Seeker now, isn't she?" I ask, ignoring George's comment.

"Ginny? Yeah." George replies. "She's pretty good too." 

They continue to talk as we move up the stairs to find a good seat in the stands. I can see a large group of Slytherins sitting nearby, as we make our way higher towards the top section. 

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams are already on the pitch, mounting their brooms. I can see the Captains -- Angelina Johnson and a Hufflepuff seventh-year that I don't know -- shaking hands. Next to me, I can see Fred exchanging a Skiving Snackbox with a student in our year, pocketing the change. He winks at me, and I turn back to the pitch. 

Angelina makes the first goal of the game, and my friends jump up, yelling. 

"Oi, Angelina!" Fred calls to the Chaser, who looks at him for a second, smiling. "Can you tell Peakes to send a bludger over there!?" He points to the Slytherins in front of us, who look like they're about to start singing "Weasley is Our King". 

Angelina rolls her eyes, still smiling, and flies back towards the Quaffle. I watch her, feeling a bit resentful. 

"Is your brother okay?" I ask him. Even from where I'm sitting, Ron appears to be drifting away from the center ring. 

"He just needs to be more focused," George replies, in a voice that sounds more like he's trying to convince himself. 

Ron misses the first goal for Hufflepuff by a few feet. I can see Daphne and Olivia singing with the rest of the Slytherins. 

"I wish they'd shut up," I complain. "I'm tired of hearing that stupid song." 

"Don't pretend you didn't learn it for our benefit," Fred nudges me with his arm. 

"I didn't!" I deny, but he's grinning at me now. 

A few rows away, I can see Zacharias cheering loudly for the Hufflepuff team. I wonder if I can enchant a bludger to hit him without anyone seeing, then consider that it might be too harsh of an idea. 

Fred follows my gaze, and says, "Don't get any ideas, now. This game is serious business."

"I wasn't," I lie. 

Hufflepuff wins the game, but barely. Ginny, Fred and George's sister, ends up catching the snitch before the Hufflepuff team can get even more of a lead. It's obvious that the Slytherins haven't helped Ron. 

"Ah, well," George stands up, stretching. "It could have been worse." 

"Wish we could have played," Fred says. "It looks like Coote almost got knocked off his broom a few times by a bludger." 

"It definitely would have made the game more interesting," I agree. "Your sister was incredible, though." 

We sit in the stands a little longer, waiting for the crowd to diminish. Professor Umbridge, I realize, had been sitting near the group of Slytherins, looking a bit smug. Before she leaves, she smiles widely at Fred and George, who scowl at her. 

"What d'you think she's doing?" I say, watching her say something to Daphne, who is nodding. 

"Probably trying to figure out how to deband the whole Gryffindor team," George answers. 

I think back to what Umbridge had said to me, back when she had been trying to act on my "best interests". Something about a leadership opportunity. But what would she be able to offer as a teacher that wasn't making someone a Prefect? 

"Better luck next time, Weasley!" Zacharias calls up to the twins. 

Unable to take it anymore, I flick my wand, causing him to trip on his robes. Fred and George laugh loudly, and Zacharias seems to think better about saying anything else. 

On our walk back to the school, we run into Angelina, who is looking disgruntled. She's still in her Quidditch robes, and her braided hair is tied up neatly. 

"Good game," George says. 

"Oh shut up," Angelina snaps. "We were rubbish and you know it." 

"I wouldn't say it like that," Fred replies. "You just need to tell Peakes and Coote to, well, hit the bludgers instead of trying to embrace them." 

Angelina snorts. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to do about your brother." She looks at me for a second, seeming to realize that I'm there. "Did you need something?" Her voice is colder. 

"This is our new Slytherin friend," Fred gestures to me. "You might think that she's only good at the Dark Arts, but she's pretty good at Charms too." 

Friend. The word stings more than I'd like to admit. Especially if he's saying it to his ex-girlfriend. 

"Oh," Angelina says. "That's... er, nice." 

"You played great today," I tell her, trying to keep the bite out of my words. 

They continue to talk about Quidditch, and I stay silent. Maybe it was a mistake to make my feelings about Fred so clear. Maybe we weren't together, afterall. What if he was embarrassed about me? I hadn't thought of that. 

It annoys me that I'm so bothered by it. 

George and Angelina continue into the building, but Fred pulls me aside before I can walk into the building. "Why are you so quiet? I'm getting nervous." 

"Am I just your friend, then?" I demand, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them. 

He looks surprised for a second, and then a little confused. "What makes you think that?" 

"It's what you told Angelina," I mutter. "Actually, forget it." 

A smile forms on his face. "Are you jealous?" 

"No!" I say, a little too quickly. 

"We're just friends now," Fred says.

"I don't care," I reply, stubbornly. 

He takes my head in his hands, and kisses me so thoroughly that all the thoughts of Angelina leave my mind. "I'm only interested in you," he assures me. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea." 

"You're forgiven," I say, curtly. Then, I smile. He releases me, and we walk back into the building.


	15. Chapter 15

"Did you read the _Quibbler_ article?" Olivia asks me at breakfast on Monday. 

"What, that rubbish?" Daphne scoffs, looking annoyed at a few first years who are passing around said article at the other end of the table. 

"What are you talking about?" I say. I'm pushing the eggs around on my plate, watching Fred over at the Gryffindor table. He seems to be opening letters from a pile that has been steadily growing in front of Harry Potter. 

Fred looks up for a second, catching me staring, and winks. I look down at my plate, smiling. 

Daphne looks at this exchange between us, and rolls her eyes. Olivia, oblivious to it all, says, "The one that Harry Potter did for Rita Skeeter of course. I'd lend you my copy, but I let someone borrow it already." 

Umbridge has approached the Gryffindor table now, looking furious. 

"Don't tell me you believed it," Daphne says. 

Olivia shrugs. "It was an entertaining read." 

They continue to argue about it, or at least Daphne does, insisting that there shouldn't be any more misinformation being spread around. 

"Hey." I look up to see Fred standing next to me. "D'you fancy a walk before class?" 

"I'd love one," I say, ignoring how the other Slytherins around me are suddenly glowering. I say goodbye to Daphne and Olivia hastily, and follow Fred out into the hallway. 

"Here," Fred hands me a blank booklet. "This is for you. I was able to get a copy from a third-year in exchange for a Skiving Snackbox." 

I take it suspiciously, not sure if this is some sort of trick paper that he wants to test out on me. To my surprise, the words _Quibbler_ appear on the front, along with a picture of Harry Potter gazing back at me as soon as I touch it. 

"So this is what everyone's been talking about," I say, studying the magazine.

"I charmed it just for you," Fred grins. "It can be read by your eyes only. I have a feeling these will start being confiscated soon." 

"That's a good bit of charm work," I say. "But... d'you... I mean, do you believe it?" 

"I already told you I did," he replies. "I think you need to read it. It might put things into perspective for you." 

I'm already flipping through the article, not paying attention to where I'm walking. Fred pulls me out of the path of a group of Slytherin girls, who are all staring at us. I can already make out the last names of a few students that are in my house -- Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle being a few of them. 

"This is..." I trail off. "Absolutely mad." 

"Just say you'll read it," Fred insists. 

"Fine," I agree. "If it'll stop you from pestering me." Really, I don't know why I'm so annoyed all of a sudden, and then realize it has everything to do with the thought of seeing my father's name somewhere in this article. 

He seems unfazed by my sudden change in attitude. "I don't think you want that." 

I roll my eyes, but allow him to kiss my cheek before walking away. 

It's hard not to appreciate Fred's thoughtfulness, however, when Umbridge puts up Educational Degree #27, declaring that any student caught with an issue of the _Quibbler_ would be expelled immediately. 

I'm not able to read the article until that evening, when Daphne and I are studying in the library. I've heard mutters about the article all day, and I'm getting anxious. 

A little reluctantly, I place the magazine in the middle of my Charms textbook, and start to read. The account is so detailed, that it's impossible to pull my eyes away from Potter's words. 

In that moment, everything that I had made myself believe about the world changes. If I'm being honest, I had known that things had been going wrong, but it's as if everything I had thought shatters around me. 

I find myself thinking about Opal in that moment, and about myself. 

"Are you okay?" Daphne asks, looking up from the essay she had been writing for Potions. 

"I'm not feeling well," I lie, shutting my book quickly. It felt like the article was about to burn through the pages. "I think I'm going to go to bed." 

When I reach the dormitory, it's empty. Thank God. Shaking, I place the copy of the _Quibbler_ in my trunk, under a pile of sweaters. There had been no mention of my father, to my relief, besides the part where You-Know-Who had said that his "most loyal followers" had been sent to Azkaban, and -- of course-- the fact that he had recently escaped from the wizarding prison. 

Something catches my eye when I shut the trunk -- a blue envelope, addressed to me from the Ministry. I had left it on the floor after the news of Opal's death, and it had been kicked under my bed, left abandoned. 

I pick it up, wondering if wanted to torture myself further by reading it, too. It felt almost as if I was ripping off a bandage, in a way. 

Sighing, I open the letter, dreading the contents, but unable to look away. 

_Ministry of Magic  
Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Dear Miss Dolohov,_

_We regret to inform you that the body of Opal Fawcett has been found in the room of a Muggle Inn in London on January 20th. Her life has been, presumably, ended by a killing curse administered by Antonin Dolohov, who left a note in the room. As you may well know, Antonin Dolohov is responsible for the murders of multiple witches and wizards, including Fabian and Gideon Prewett, and Gemma Fawcett._

The mention of my mother's name in the letter makes me gasp, almost dropping the letter. Gemma Fawcett -- the letters seem to scream out at me. 

No, he didn't murder her, too. It was true that she had tried to escape, but I had always thought that another Death Eater must have found her, kept her from coming back. That's what Opal had always told me. 

_We have reason to believe that he will try to contact you again in the future._

I stop reading again. Contact me again? What did that mean? Then, my heart drops. Was the letter that he left meant for me? I continue reading: 

_We understand that this is a sensitive time, but if you have any information regarding the location of your father, we must ask that you contact the Ministry at once._

_Regards,_

_Gawain Robards_  
Head of Auror Office for the Ministry of Magic   


Behind the official letter is a copy of another note, the handwriting surprisingly neat. It's short, but the contents make me shudder: 

_I expect we'll see each other again soon._

Unable to look at the letter, or the other one written by my father, I open my trunk and shove it in between the now-blank _Quibbler_ magazine. 

When the other girls enter the room, I'm pretending to be asleep. My dreams that night are tainted by the thought of my father, and the screams of my mother. 

-:-

"Oi," I say, catching Ginny Weasley -- Fred and George's sister -- in front of the Gryffindor common room. After I had woken up from a few hours of sleep, I had stalked off to the portrait of the Fat Lady in Gryffindor Tower. The woman in the portrait was eyeing me suspiciously. "Is Fred in there?" 

Ginny looks at me cooly. "What business is it of yours?" It was true, we hadn't spoken much. 

"I need to talk to him," I insist. "It's important." 

I probably look insane. Slytherins hardly ever came all the way up here -- we usually had no reason to look for a Gryffindor. 

"I know who you are," Ginny says. "You're that Slytherin girl that the twins are always talking to." 

"Yes, I suppose I am," I say, impatiently. "Can you please go back and tell your brother to come outside?" 

"Why are you bothering my sister?" I turn around, to see Fred, stepping out from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. He looks amused. 

Instead of explaining anything, I burst into tears at the sight of him. Ginny stares at me, as if she believes I've gone mad. I probably have. Fred says something to her quietly, and she nods and walks away. 

"Hey," Fred's smile falters. "What's wrong?" 

I shake my head. "You were right." 

"I usually am," Fred answers, taking my hand. We're walking away from the common room now, headed down the corridor. "But about what this time?" 

"The article." I take a shuddering breath. "It's all true, isn't it? I didn't want to believe it." 

Everything comes pouring out then, about how my aunt died by my father, and about the part in the letter from the Ministry that said that he had murdered my mom.

"And--" I take a shaky breath. "I don't know what to believe anymore." 

Fred pulls me into his arms, squeezing me against him. I rest my head on his chest and take a deep breath. 

"You know what it sounds like you need?" He says, sounding thoughtful. 

I look up at him, feeling a few tears still clinging to my eyelashes. "What?" 

"A day off," Fred says promptly. "Come on, let's go." He takes my hand, and begins to take me down the corridor, all the way down the flights of stairs that lead out of the Gryffindor tower. I find myself being taken outside, close to the lake. 

I don't even question it, until he sits me down next to a tree on the grounds. I can hear the sound of the water splashing against the shore. The water is dark today, probably still icy from the winter. 

"I'm going to be behind." That's the smallest protest that I can think of. Truthfully, I'm happy that I won't have to face anyone. 

"Not much that you can't make up in a day," Fred encourages. "When did you get the letter from the Ministry?" 

"The day that I found out the news about my aunt," I answer. "I sort of... threw it on the ground and forgot about it until last night." 

He nods. "Sounds reasonable, they're all gits anyway. D'you really think your dad's going to come find you?" 

I shrug. "He found Opal, didn't he?" 

"Well," Fred replies, "we'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen." 

"How can you be so calm about it?" I demand, but I lean on him, resting my head on his shoulder. Potions is about to start, but I don't care. 

"There's more going on than you think," he assures me. "People that can offer protection, if you want it." 

"Not for me," I mumble. "Why would anyone want to protect a daughter of a Death Eater?" 

"Honestly, I don't know how many times I have to tell you how not evil you are," Fred says. "We'll go to Professor McGonagall about it later, you'll see." 

His words are so confident that it actually makes me feel better. 

"You don't have to do this alone," Fred says. "Not if you don't want to." 

"I want to stop him," I say, finally. "Especially if he was the one who murdered my mom." 

"I can help you with that. At least, we have a club for it." 

I look at him skeptically. "Oh really, a club?" 

"Well, it's not exactly up to the new Inquisitor's standards, but it'll do the job. You have to promise not to tell any of your Slytherin friends, though." 

I think about Daphne, who has been hanging around Pansy and her friends more than ever. "Deal," I say. 

-:-

Fred spends the rest of the morning with me, until I insist that we go to Transfiguration -- a class I'd rather not miss. Then, we meet up with George, who tries to put a garish pink hat on my head -- a Headless Hat, Fred tells me. Laughing now, I go back outside with them, where I try to catch up on my Potions work while they sell a few of their products to the third years who are coming back from Care of Magical Creatures. 

"I think I'm going to take Leah to the meeting tonight," Fred tells George, when they finally join me where I'm sitting. 

George looks at me, and then shrugs. 

"Is that the club you were telling me about?" I say. "And what is it, then?" 

"You'll have to find out for yourself," George answers. "Meet us tonight by the portrait of the wizards playing cards and we'll take you." 

That's how I find myself that evening walking upstairs to the portrait, feeling a bit silly. Fred and George meet me there, grinning widely. 

"I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Room of Requirement?" Fred asks. 

"The what?" 

"It's one of the many secrets of Hogwarts, of course," George says. 

They lead me up a few flights of stairs to the seventh floor, where a door waits, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. 

"Hold on," I say. "That wasn't there before, was it?" 

"Nope." Fred grins, and takes the handle to the door. "Are you ready?" 

"I suppose so," I say, and follow the twins into the room. 


	16. Chapter 16

I feel eyes on me as soon as I'm in the room. It's a large space, with what looks like a good variety of equipment that you'd find in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class that was taught by Professor Lupin or Mad-Eye Moody. 

There are already about ten other students there -- all from different houses. I can see Harry Potter's friend, Hermione Granger, looking at me warily. 

"Be careful," a voice says, "it looks like someone's been following you." Zacharias Smith is standing with a couple of other Hufflepuff students, giving me a scathing look. 

"You didn't tell me that he'd be here," I say, looking at the twins accusingly.

"Everyone else is tolerable," Fred assures me. I can see Zacharias's face turn a shade of pink. 

Ignoring him, I follow Fred, who is walking over to where Hermione is standing. Beside her, I can see the other two -- Harry Potter and Ron Weasley -- staring at me. 

"This is Leah," Fred says. "She's interested in joining." 

"I mean, I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into," I say, "but if this is a good place to learn defense magic, I'd like to attend the meetings." 

"How do we know you're not sent here by Umbridge?" Fred's brother, Ron demands. 

"I dunno," Fred says, "she's gotten detention from Umbridge for yelling at her in class, I don't think she'd be working for the toad." 

"I read the article," I interject. "And I believe it. I'd like to learn how to defend myself." 

"What a load of rubbish," Zacharias calls, from where he's standing. Behind him, I can see that a few other students have started to trickle into the room. "She tried to hex me in the hallway." 

"That's true," I allow, "but only because you're a git." 

Across the room, George and a few other students laugh. And weirdly, that seems good enough for them, because I'm allowed to sign the parchment that Hermione hands me labeled "Dumbledore's Army". I can see about thirty other names signed already. 

"This is mad," I tell Fred. "How long has this been going on?" 

"All year." Fred grins. "All right under Umbridge's nose." 

"She'd be furious if she found out," I say, but I can't hide my smile. "This is brilliant. I wish..." I trail off. I wish I hadn't been so in denial. 

"I know." Fred gives my hand a squeeze, and then doesn't let go. He leads me over to where George is standing, talking to Lee Jordan and a few girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. 

"All right, Leah?" Lee grins. "Took you long enough." 

"I needed some convincing," I tell him. 

"Leah, right?" I turn to see Ginny, Fred and George's little sister, approaching me. "Everything alright?" 

"Yes it is, sorry about that," I apologize, remembering our encounter in the corridor. "It wasn't exactly how I had planned to meet you." 

Ginny smiles then. "You can't be too bad, seeing as how Fred seems to like you quite a bit." 

It takes me a few moments to notice that I'm the only Slytherin in the room. But instead of feeling like I don't belong, I feel like I'm finally part of something that I can appreciate. The rest of Fred and George's friends seem confused, but not annoyed that I'm there. If anything, they seem to appreciate my company more than Zacharias, which I'm pleased to see. 

Once everyone has arrived, Harry Potter calls the meeting to order. We're supposed to be practicing the Impediment Jinx today in partners. 

I find myself facing Fred, who is already holding his wand. "I'll go easy on you this time," he says. 

"Oh really?" I reply. "What if I don't go easy on you, then?" The other students around us are already practicing, with different results. I can see Lee Jordan missing George with the hex a few feet away. 

He let's me go first, which turns out to be more nerve wracking than I think, with him watching me so intently. For one thing, I don't really want to hex him. 

"Impedimenta!" I say, trying to remember the right movement. The spell hits Fred, but only slows him down a bit. 

"I thought you'd do better than that," Fred teases. 

When it's his turn, I'm thrown off a bit by the hex, unable to move at all. When it wears off, Fred is laughing. I hit him with the spell again, this time knocking him backwards. 

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I say, but I'm too busy laughing for my apology to have much weight. 

"Don't provoke her too much, Freddie," George jokes. 

"Impedimenta!" Fred says, but his wand is pointing slightly away from me. For a second, I wonder if I had accidentally confunded him, but his jinx hits Zacharias, who is about to cast the spell on the other side of the room. Zacharias freezes where he's standing. "Oh, sorry Harry, I think my aim was off," Fred says to Harry Potter, who is walking by. I'm laughing too hard to say anything. 

We practice a few more spells -- "Expelliarmus" being one of them -- and then Harry says that we might start learning Patronus Charms soon if everyone becomes comfortable with the basics. 

"Ooh, I'd love to learn that," I say to Fred and George. We're leaving the room in groups now -- the safest way to leave when you're part of an illegal organization. "We were supposed to learn that this year, if we were allowed to use our wands in class." 

"So you liked it, then?" Fred asks. 

"I loved it," I clarify. "Thank you for bringing me." 

We say goodbye then, and I make my way back to the common room, feeling a bit giddy. 

-:-

"Miss Dolohov," Professor McGonagall says, before I leave Transfiguration. "I need to speak with you for a moment, if you can stay after class for a few minutes." 

I look at Fred and George, who shrug. "I'll see you later," I say to them. 

McGonagall waits until we're the only ones left in the room before she speaks. "I wanted to check in with you," she begins, "about how you're doing." 

I balk at her for a second, a little caught off guard. "What do you mean, Professor? I thought my grades were back up." 

"This isn't about grades," Professor McGonagall says. "What I'm asking is, are you okay? With everything going on in your life, I would assume that you were under some stress." 

I look at the door, which has been closed. The last thing I would want is for her to get into trouble for speaking to me about something that isn't Transfiguration. 

McGonagall sees what I'm doing, and says, "Don't worry about that. I wouldn't repeat this," she warns, "but don't see the harm of bending the rules occasionally, especially if the rules are so..." 

"Dimwitted?" I supply. 

"You didn't hear it from me," she says, but I see the beginning of a smile on her face. 

"In all honesty, Professor," I say, choosing my words carefully. "I'm a little scared about what's going to happen when I leave Hogwarts." 

"Understandably," McGonagall nods. 

"I think my father is after me." The words come out before I can stop them. Something about Professor McGonagall's earnest expression -- one that wants to help me -- brings everything out, until I've told her everything. About how Opal had died, and the contents of the letter from the Ministry. 

"Have you told anyone else about this?" She asks, once I've finished. 

"Just Fred," I say. 

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows go up at this, but then she nods. "You know, Miss Dolohov, there are ways that you can be protected. I'd be willing to help you with them, when you get closer to graduating. Professor Dumbledore in particular has ways that--" 

The door opens, and Filch storms into the room, looking furious. "Professor," he says, "Peeves is throwing ink pellets at the first years on the second floor. He says he got them from the Weasley twins--" 

"What am I supposed to do about that?" McGonagall answers, looking annoyed. Then, she turns to me. "We'll discuss your grades later." 

"Yes, Professor." I leave the room, feeling irritated. 

Outside of the room, I can still hear Filch raving. 

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Daphne asks me. She had been waiting in the hallway. "I hope your grades aren't slipping again." 

"Only a bit," I lie. "I accidentally turned in an essay on the wrong subject last week. She's going to give me a few days to fix it, though." 

Daphne sighs. "Honestly, Leah..." She then changes the subject, complaining about how much Arithmancy homework that she has. 

Later that day, there's a commotion in the Entrance Hall. I can see Umbridge in a sickly pink cardigan from where I'm standing by the front doors of the school. A large crowd of students is gathered around what appears to be the sacking of Professor Trelawney. 

"Better her than Hagrid," someone whispers to me. I turn and see Fred standing by my side, as if he had been there all along. "But it's a bit sad, I have to admit." 

"Where did you--?" My voice is cut off by the sobs of Trelawney, who is pleading to Umbridge. 

"Look at how satisfied she looks," I hiss, in disgust. Umbridge's toad-like face is smiling, as if she's enjoying herself. "The toad." 

"Don't say it too loud," Fred replies, "you don't want to get detention." 

I roll my eyes, but I can't pull my eyes away from the scene, especially after Professor McGonagall intervenes, and then Dumbledore himself. Dumbledore's presence seems to throw Umbridge off a little, especially after he says that he's already picked a new Divination teacher. 

"Come on," I say, "I can't watch any more of this." We slip back from where I came -- out of the front door and onto the lawn. 

I take that time to tell him everything that I had discussed with McGonagall earlier. 

"She said something about Dumbledore being able to help," I finish, "and then Filch came in, saying that you and George had been giving ink pellets to Peeves." 

"Sorry about that," Fred answers, "we had left a few out for him this morning. Just thought the school needed a bit of excitement today. Apparently not, after what we've just witnessed." 

"Of course you did," I shake my head.

"Are you still worried?" Fred says, his voice softer. 

"A little," I admit, "but I feel better, after talking to McGonagall." 

"She'll set you straight," he agrees. 

"Anyway," I continue, "I have to worry about even passing my NEWTs before then." 

I guess I still look a little distracted, because he takes my face in his hands, tilting my head up to where I have to meet his eyes. 

"You don't have to worry about anything," Fred promises. "Believe me, we'll take care of it." 

He's close enough that I don't have to move much further to press my lips against his. One of his hands moves from my face, snaking around my waist instead and pulling me closer. 

When I pull away, I smile back at him. "I suppose we'd better get to class, then." 

"Yeah?" Fred looks over towards the lake. "Or we could skive off again. You seem a bit stressed." 

I hit his shoulder lightly. "Not this time, Weasley. I told you, I have to actually pass my classes this year." 

"It was worth a try." Fred grins. 

We go back inside, and I'm relieved that the Entrance Hall is clearing out.


End file.
